#PETITION TO MAKE HIM THE COMPANION AFTER RUBY

[thepunkmuppet]

fifteenth doctor and regency jonathan groff I know what you are

[illyrian-lover-flower]

Dance away the stars with me

So, @autophobiaxx​ - this is your last gift from me. I hope you enjoyed the former two, because I loved writing them.

I don’t know about you, but I really loved this project and it was my pleasure to write for you.

Also about this one - I tried to go with the ‘And they were roommates’, but looks like it turned into sharing a bed kind of fic. 

Anyway I wish you a lot of fun with this one. 

Also, have a splendid end of the year😘

Elain felt tired out, a heavy weight pushing down her petite shoulders as she stood in the corner of Vassa’s ballroom. 

Her friend having flown personally across the sea, to deliver this letter of invitation to her.  

A bright smile that lit up the night as her burning form vanished into the one of the fiery queen in front of Elain.  

Those bright red curls of her hair dancing around the queen, like a fire itself. Wild untamed eyes beaming happily at her. Ignoring all her naked glory with which she stood in Elain’s garden. Luckily the inhabitants of the house were still too preoccupied to notice her arrival, letting them have their time until Vassa was at least covered by a cloak.  

Declaring in this strong rumbling voice of hers, that there would soon be a grand Solstice ball hosted at her castle. Also telling the seer that she would not take a ‘no’ for an answer, while she already started to twirl and dance with Elain in the garden.  

Spinning happily without a care, that the soft cloak didn’t cover as much anymore as it should. Dancing in wide circles along with Elain’s purple dress while nature watched. Occasionally did a fae walk by, but the smell of Vassa’s curse - the scent of burning and crackling magic- seemed to fully taint her human scent.

Making most of the fae smile with shaking heads, thinking that a friend –or lover- came to enjoy some time with  the friendly seer.  

And indeed, they did have a wonderful time. Those ocean blue eyes of the queen brimming over with happiness as she declared in a proud voice – it was the first Solstice ball since, well, centuries. Elain smiled at her friend as she kept rambling on about how she had searched the library, for books when the last Solstice ball was.  

But she meant that their documentations didn’t reach that far back, so she sadly couldn't give Elain a real feeling of what expanse of time passed.  

It were such moments, in which she questioned Vassa’s age. Not quite aware how her curse affected her aging progress. As this knowing look was often witnessable in her eyes.  

Talking of ancient parties, banquets, former human festivities and so on. Vassa awfully liked to talk about the festivities the mortals once had – describing her so vigorously how they were decorated, how the food tasted and was arranged while she often complained about the dances and the stiff spines of the humans.  

She should have believed Vassa more. Was all Elain could think as she stood silently in the corner of the wide ballroom. Candles, bonds and greenery painting the atmosphere of the hall in a calm solstice spirit, while she only watched.  

Spines of both, women and men, completely stiff as they swirled around with their partner. Flowing skirts twirling in circles while the loud fake giggles of the women rang in her pointed ears – which she didn’t even bother to hide anymore.  

All in all, Elain had thought she had forgone hiding long ago. But as she swallowed up the space in the shadow of Vassa’s throne, it seemed like someone wanted to prove her otherwise.  

Though nothing in her made even the slightest move of peeking up and having the urge to go to the dance floor. No, the last urge to do that had been more than two hours ago and she would not have that disaster again.  

Would not have another man growing stiff while she asked for a dance. The mortals all used to the man asking his chosen companion, while she would wait for an invitation – the rest of the night if she had to.  

Elain really couldn’t think about a single reason why she once loved these blinding balls. Sticky air attached to her porcelain skin, loud laughter ringing in her ear, as someone finally opened a window. A groan escaped her as the first complain of a woman already echoed over to her pointed ears.  

She really would have loved to go outside- to get some fresh air, admiring Vassa’s gardens. But the seer was well aware to the looks that rested upon her petite shoulders.  

As if the heavy sheet of midnight velvet, attached to her pale blue gown wasn’t enough weight on her.  

It had been so long since she last wore something that closed off. The skin on her shoulders thankful for the cold metal of the needles, that rested on each of them as they held her trail attached there.  

The as mistletoe decorated ornaments sparkling in the warm light of the room.  The golden hue getting captured in the hundreds of small emeralds and the two big rubies. Dancing and chasing each other in the glittering realm on her shoulders.  

While she stood stiff as a salt pillar.

A kind smile on her lips, but a faraway gaze in her eyes as she listened into the conversations that took place on the polished white marble floor. The humans all whispered.

Hushed voices flying around the room, trying to keep their shushed indignation away from her prying pointed ears.  

Though they seemed to forget about the two males that twirled on the dance floor and also listened in on their conversations. Day and night transforming the ballroom into a scenery of beauty.  

The one, bright as the sun, dancing with his queen in his arms. Love and faithfulness to her written in his eyes. While the other one, dark as night, twirled on the dancefloor with various women.  

A kind smile on his lips as he picked his next victim to interrogate. Each one of his companions fearing, but also adoring him while they got silent information's sucked away from their very own body language.  

Elain didn’t really like that Azriel had danced all night with every woman in the hall, just not her. But she knew of the reason.  

Knew that he was here for a reason after all.  

Feyre was sceptical about Elain’s visit. All alone in a realm full of sceptical and hate withered humans. So, it had been a relief for her younger sister when Elain told her she would ask Azriel if he would join her.  

The High Lady of the Night court doubted that the broody shadowsinger would volunteer to go with her into the mortal realms. Surprise lining her features as she found him and Elain ready on the roof.

Deaf to the quiet language the seer spoke with him.  

He knew it was a onetime opportunity to gather information. Vassa’s silent smirk the entire evening, was also prove that her ulterior motive wasn’t a calm and boring ball. She gave both of them an opportunity to gather information from the kingdoms, that had betrayed her so cold heartedly.  

While she had Elain’s help by her side with Koschei.  

‘One hand washes the other.’ meant Vassa, but Elain knew that her fiery friend would have loved to help her, even without her help depending on the one that cursed her.  

This dangerous gleam in Vassa’s eyes something most had overlooked tonight as they greeted her. Guest for guest – kingdom for kingdom- bowing down in front of her.

Jurian, as well as Lucien, shared the same kind but tiny devilish smirk with their friend the entire evening. Watching with delight how the seer and the shadowsinger of the Night court silently interrogated those who betrayed Vassa’s kingdom.  

Plotting out their fall, like a silent cloud of death creeping up to them.  

“You seem to have a lot of fun tonight.” stated Jurian with an amused look, as he extended a hand to her. She took it gladly. A small honest smile spreading as her friend had approached her silently.

Though she could not help the silent wish in her head, a hissing scolding following soon while her hand rested calmly in his.  

‘Wrong!’ hissed this voice inside her. His hands felt so wrong.  

Jurian seemed to notice her pained train of thoughts as he chuckled quietly. “Sorry, I am not quiet the one you hoped I would be.” a blush crept up her cheeks – hopefully it was just the warmth of the room. And not the thought of a certain shadowsinger.  

Not the ghosting feeling, on her hands, of his scars. Her petite fingers having long mesmerized each scar that was printed into his gentle hands.  

“I don’t know who you are talking about.” was all she could mumble as Jurian kept twirling them over the marble floor, that mirrored each of their movements.  

“How is my bet going?” she asked him out of the blue as he chuckled at her innocent reply. This soaring mind of hers trying to get her attention off of those fussy feelings inside her chest.  

Those sensitive ears also needing something different to listen to than the too loud notes of flutes and mother knows what.

“Better than mine.” was all he growled out. His warm brown eyes immediately looking above her head and into the direction of his friends. Which twirled without a care along the music – showing the humans that no one needed to fear those oh so blood thirsty creatures.

Elain looked up at him with questioning eyes “You have another bet?” “Exactly.” was all he answered smugly as he twirled her out on one hand.  

“You wound me Jurian. I thought I was the only one you bet with.” her eyes brimmed with laughter as he pulled her close again, not too close. Even his human mind was aware to the piercing eyes of the shadowsinger on his back.  

The two main reasons as to why he had a bet with Vassa in the first place. Two at the moment to be exact. One containing their visit this week, while the other would most likely last for a long term. Jurian groaned a bit in pain at the mere thought of it. ‘Hopefully I am going to see the end of this before I die!’ was all he could think of.  

After all, those two were good when it came to dancing. Mostly when it came to dancing around each other. Always a back and forth of twirling skirts and hissing shadows as they reached out for each other whenever the other one withdrew. An everlasting circle of day and night.

“I can’t bet with you on this one.”  

Elain’s worried eyes had him chuckling. This fae female seemed to always fear for the worst – thoughts of a next battle and bloodshed probably preoccupying this thoughtful mind of hers already again.  

A thoughtful mind he respected, but feared at times.  

Jurian was well aware to the strength of her sisters. One blessed with the seven powers of the courts, respected in each of them and the other fierce and strongheaded. Setting the Illyrians in the camps under turmoil at the moment.  

And while both had plenty of strength, making everyone believe that there was nothing as such left for their sister – they lacked kindness and understanding. One having at least a bit of it, for those who she loved while the other did know nothing about mercy.  

They both lacked the calm political abilities of their middle sister.  

The silent scale no one knew about.

Elain had grown up happily among the humans, had been a master at feeding lies and spinning nets of a twisted truths, that only contained scrums of what it really was. She was an honest soul, but prettying up the truth was something she had been skilled in since years.  

This sharp mind of hers, able to read humans just as well as fae with just an innocent look of from her eyes. The dangerous gleam in her them, hidden faraway in the facet of a deep caramel, was something no one had noticed until now.  

Her sisters unable to see a dangerous side of her.  

Jurian had started seeing Elain as a scale the moment she first stepped into these halls.  

Those knowing innocent eyes resting on him with a sharpness, that could cut bones. Assessing – predicting- his next actions as her eyes started to cloak themselves. Those few minutes which she had spent in the realms of the future, were worse than any battle he had fought upon.  

His mind growing well aware of the blood that would always stick to his hands. Innocent blood among it.  

But as the seer returned, she bowed her head in respect at all three of them. Her eyes having seen something that made her believe in him, something only few did at this time.  

And without even realizing it, did a deep friendship form.  

One her sisters probably didn’t even know existed.  Thinking it hurt her whenever Vassa called upon her abilities, acting cold and icy around them while she opened up to the female she should have feared.  

Her burning heart should have feared of the possibility that Lucien could still gift his love to the fawn and not the phoenix.  

But it was obvious. His decision was as clear as day written across his face, whenever he watched the queen. Elain having long known of his future path while she seemed oblivious to her own.  

Kind jokes and a few glasses of wine, Jurian shared in silence with her. making them bond over various things. It was refreshing whenever Elain came to visit them. Accompanying him on his third-wheeling as they silently betted in the background how long it would take for the two to finally knock it off.  

Elain betted on many things, a trait she had picked up from her family, he found out. But Jurian was sure to mention the condition of no peeking into the future whenever they started a bet.

She had grown well into her powers after all. Not even the cryptic visions bothered her anymore. And it relieved her, the control she had now, easing her shoulders, whenever he saw her, a bit more.  

“Have you found out anything yet?” whispered Jurian down to her. Humans might not have such sensitive ears like fae, but they had their ways of sneaking around.

Elain shook her head, a dramatic sigh on her rosy painted lips as she eyed the ball room discreetly again “No, not yet. The one I had danced with before could have also been dead – though I do thing a dead body spoke more than his. And the rest of these people are complaining about Azriel’s, Lucien’s and my presence on this human ball.”  

The former general sighed in defeat as a little smirk played along her lips “Some are even thinking you should go with us. After all, you are such a foolish man that lay his heart in those ungrateful hands of this intoxicating creature. “  

“I think if that would ever happen, I would already have it pierced on a dagger.” was all he could mumble. His memories showing him with shivering intensity the death stare of death incarnate. The shadowsinger not entirely able to hide this quiet rage inside him, whenever he noticed someone had bad intentions with the fawn.  

Trying to hide her away from cruelty, drooling stares, torture and mother knows what. Though he recently started to relax more, a proud smile on his lips whenever this quiet female was able to send a male off - only with a cold spoken word and hard eyes.  

It wondered Jurian the last time he witnessed it.

But apparently, there were many things that wondered him over the months he had gotten to know these two. Having been the third wheel for already quite a while, he knew for what he needed to search in someone's eyes when two hearts seemed to beat in sync.  

Knew of the adoration, the trust, the respect and everything else, that lay in someone's eyes if they truly loved someone. And apparently whenever Azriel and Elain turned their back at each other, one of them always turned around.  

Looking at their loved one with wide eyes that brimmed over with love. It was a clear mystery to him how they were even able to hide these emotions.  

It wondered him how the shadowsinger and the fawn were able to tear their heart’s apart, while they only wanted to be together. Those feelings that were strained between them, even seeable to his human eyes.  

But Elain never knew what his innuendos indicated, when he tried to tell her about the deep bond, she had with the shadowsinger. Mother above – she was the one that always complained to him whenever Lucien or Vassa didn’t get a hint, while she wasn’t any better herself.  

Though lately Lucien and Vassa seemed to get each other more, seemed to spend more time with each other while they laughed at things Jurian and Elain had no clue of. The knowing smile on their silent companions' lips always something that threw Vassa and Lucien off, when they sat at the dinner table.  

A groan escaped Jurian at the mere thought, of the looks they now shared with each other “If they move on any faster than this, I am afraid I will lose my bet.”  

The seer only giggled, carefully peeking over her shoulder as she saw the fiery couple dancing. A soothing flame in the veil of shadows around them. 

All those mortals around them, wanting to separate them, tear them apart, kill them, torture the other while their companion needed to watch – a dark veil of cruelty which both did not care about as they danced away the night with a burning love.  

But those careful eyes of the seer strayed from them, strayed from everyone in the loud ballroom as she looked for him. A solid pillar of shadows that danced and whirled around the room, but he was nowhere to be found. His bulky frame having hid away in a shadow of this enormous castle.  

Perhaps he had managed to gather some helpful information's. Writing them down and reading over them with trained hazel eyes. Studying line for line of the report- until the tiniest of secrets was spilled to him, somewhere in a room.  

Elain could only hope so as she danced with Jurian for one more hour. A heavy heart sinking with each dance in her chest, while her ears picked up the same useless information's again and again and again.  

The humans not able to get over the subject.  

Until Elain grew tired of it. Tired of the heavy heart in her chest, tired of the hushed voices in her ears and tired of the ever-repeating steps she made.  

Jurian noticed it with woken eyes. Leading her carefully away from those toxic souls of the humans. The quietness to her ears, as they entered the empty hallways, seemingly throwing off a weight off her petite shoulders.  

Every step she made echoing loudly, along with his, in the cold stone corridors. Until they reached her door. A quiet smile – tired and forced laying on her lips as she bid her friend ‘good night.’

It was a wonder to her how Lucien pulled through these balls, it was a wonder to her how Azriel was still able to attend these festivities with even the smallest of acted smiles.  

Her mind growing well aware to the fact why he despised these missions, in which he was required to be outside of his soothing veil of shadows.  

The mortal realms were tiering, having feasted on her patience and masquerade for the entire day.  

This stupid smile always on her lips. 

More than once already today, did she want to rip it off of her face and just snarl at these humans. These humans -that had sprayed an intoxicating and poisonous smell around the entire evening – were ready to offer their queen.  

They were all ready to drive a dagger between the ribs of their oh, so foolish queen. Killing her with the easiest of thoughts – if it wouldn’t have been for the two fae that were always around.  

Another one lurking in the shadows behind.  

As Elain pushed open the heavy door, there was this wave of relief that washed through her.  

Letting this heavy veil, of midnight blue, slip off her shoulders. The cool air of her large chamber caressing her naked skin, dancing around her like strands of darkness that pleaded her to let her mask fall. Just like this heavy sheet of fabric – that lay abandoned on the wooden floor of her room.  

This whole evening was tiering and it hadn’t even helped her to gather one tiny bit of information! How should she ever find out of Koschei’s hide out, of the strings he spun across the continent? Of the control he had on each of those who lived here.  

Elain hated that she was stuck in a dead-end. All the information she had until this point – the same as last month and the one before that and the one before that.

This feeling of uselessness keeping her heart once again in shackles. Those tired feet rushing to carry her in the bath chamber attached to her room. Pulling at the fabric of the dress that had suffocated her all night.  

There was nothing. Nothing in her heart she wished more to do now than unleash these toxic feelings inside her chest and get rid of those who caused it. A bloodshed that would take place another time, was all she could try and tell herself.  

This heart of hers – that held the wish of hundreds of deaths near- beating in anticipation at the feeling that would rush through her, once she had stricken them true. It was a poisonous wish of her turned heart – but this wish was only turned towards those who deserved it.  

To those which breathed cruelty and spat poison wherever they went, but then again – was she even allowed to judge? She knew how a human heart felt – knew how cruel it could become once fear crept inside their chests.

 But there were also those with soft hearts. Fair hearts of gold, while those, who owned them, lived in poverty.  

Most not even knowing how to write and read just a year ago.  

Elain knew Vassa did everything in her might, to sooth the folds between wealthy humans and those who crawled in the dirt. But she also saw the way the queens presents were treated, knew how those in the Villages eyed the bread, the wheat and everything that lay among it. Warm blankets for the winter and tons of logs that were displayed on the marketplace as they feared that they needed to give everything back.

Doubled and thrice – like some lordlings and ladies wanted them to. So, it was Elain’s task to show them. That there was no fear necessary as she moved in rugs past the guards, that made sure everyone would get something.  

Limping away on a stick and a duvet draped across her hunched back. With a smile did she notice that the villagers turned brave – as the supposed old lady, awaited no punishment.  

Elain had returned after that many times, asking each time another family if she could use their house for the lessons she thought. Gathering everyone, who wanted to in a circle, as she explained them how to write and read – in the dead of night.  

Making sure that her lessons never took up too much of their time. She knew of the work that was necessary in winter and did not want to exhaust them too much.  

Yet she still was able to teach everyone, within the four months of winter, how to write properly. At the end of her final lesson did she give her students a book. Some, which loved to read, immediately opening it – while others groaned at the three hundred pages of solstice tales.  

This last day of teaching was also the one in which she had pulled her hood down. The small children, having tried already more than once, to reveal her face.  

Elain had expected that there would be an uproar, that there would be fear. But as she explained her motives to them – they understood. Having gotten to know her in the darkest months of the year, kindness and silly jokes having bonded them on the many evenings.

Going as that far to even thank her, to tell her of the success they recently made.  

Some were able to get their lost land back, while others were able to make better trads.  

It brought joy to her heart, but also pain that she needed to leave them again. Knowing well that her sisters awaited her with impatient feet tipping on the ground – trying to get as many information's, about Vassa’s kingdom,from her as soon as she stepped over the threshold.  

The one who normally interrogated not caring at all, of what happened at the mortal realms. Azriel was simply glad that she was back and listened with patience as she listed to him the many names of her students.  

Watching in adoration, how this proud smile grew on her lips whenever she rambled on about them.

Whenever she told him of their good hearts.  

While she tried to avoid talking about those which caused all of them pain. A snarl on her lips whenever she only thought about the lordlings and the ladies – just like now.  

Their corrupted hearts feasting on power, while they laughed at those who played honest.  

Those chackling laughs throughout the evening had her blood turn cold, had it freezing in her very veins as her heart decided to imagine the cold joy it would bring to make them shut up.

It was a solstice ball and yet some still found sick pleasure in the pain they caused.  

Elain hated to admit that she became one of those. Cold caramel eyes looking back at her as she now looked into the mirror. This normally so soft face of hers, having grown cold as stone as she drowned in those cruel thoughts of hers.  

A pang of pain crossed her heart at the knowledge of the monster that brewed underneath her. That grew, but was more and more tamed, with each training lesson Azriel and the wraiths offered her.  

This silent beast inside her, noticing a pool of darkness in the corner of the little bath chamber. His fighting leathers- like she made out once her bare feet moved silently across the wood.  

They were neatly folded, laying atop of a chair behind the tub. It wondered her as to why they were here. Moving through the darkness of her chamber did she call out in a soft voice “Azriel?”  

It was almost entirely dark, only the open window – that flooded the room in a soft silver hue helping her to move without stumbling.

“Azriel?” she called out again, as she saw his massive form turned to the window.  

Sweat coating his naked chest while he watched the clouds move on the sky with crossed arms. The sky he just soared through, she assumed. As Elain took in his tousled hair. The wind having combed those soft black strands of ink, atop of his head, in the most various directions.  

Those mighty wings on his back capturing the silver hue of the halfmoon, making the cold light dance along the membrane. Illuminating every vein, every little and big scar as they were spread out wide.  

It was the first time Elain had seen them entirely open – not even when he sunned them in her garden, did he allow them to open fully. Though it seemed as if they spread more and more, each time she found him after a long night of hushed laughter and shared jokes. But also, after those which ripped open old scars in both of their hearts.  

But he snapped them shut, as he had heard Elain’s soft voice in the dark. His raging mind, that was for once absent, not able to identify her as his scarred hand moved immediately to truth teller.  

Those sharp hazel eyes widening as soon as he recognized her petite form – clothed in nothing but her long sapphire night gown. The long sheet of satin, hanging in lose folds over her body. Those thin straps not even seeable as her waves of honey hair hung lose over her shoulders.  

“Elain...” was all he breathed out, her eyes seeing the bob of his Adams apple even in the hue of moonlight. Though what hurt her, was that the stiffness of his shoulders, of his entire being, did not ease.  

It pained her that he didn’t seem able to relax, those mighty wings folding themselves back together on his back, as she took step for step towards him. 

An outstretched hand of hers wanting to touch the soft membrane, this sweet voice of hers only a whisper.

 As she was afraid, he would cower away from her, if she spoke any louder. “No, please don’t stash them away from me. There is no need to hide them Azriel, they are beautiful.”  

But her words did nothing to ease his tension, did nothing as his hazel eyes bored inside hers. Emotions dark as the night, making amber and emerald dance in his Irises.  

Something must have gone clearly wrong tonight, the tension rolling off of him in silent waves – just like his shadows. That pooled to his naked feet.  

The seer having long stepped into the darkness around him as she slowly lifted her hand.  

His eyes not even straying, not even flickering, away for the moment of seconds. Every blink of his eyelids seemed to be too much movement for him, as her soft hand cupped his sculpted cheek. A shudder going through his entire body as fire and ice met.  

Her cold skin resting on his heated cheek.  

A low giggle of hers bubbled to the front “Sorry, I am a bit cold.” was all she declared. Trying to take her hand back to her side as she did so. It was better for him, better if a beast like her did not touch him – did not corrupt his pure heart.  

But Azriel was against it. Was against her touch leaving his skin as his thoughts snapped to one conclusion. Each part of his body moving in unit as he pulled the seer gently by her waist towards him.  

His bulky arms resting around her petite frame as his wings wrapped tightly around her.  

Azriel’s entire being singing of a symphony of emotions. Feelings he knew, he nursed deep down in his heart for her.  

Admiration, trust, need, respect and so much more having strung his heart to her.  

He knew it, yet he was too much of a coward to spill it. To possibly take a decision from her if he would declare her his love.  

But as she withdrew her hand, he knew of the cold feeling that had settled into her eyes the moment he had flinched under her cold touch.  Disgust, but not towards him. Her eyes having spoken of what she thought herself – a beast, a monster.

Things she was far from as he held her close to his heart. “I am having enough warmth for two, take a bit of mine.”  

He felt the soft hair of the seer move on his sweat slick chest. Groaning internally at the tickling sensation ‘This was a bad idea!’ he convinced himself with only one thought. She would be coated in sweat, once they pulled apart.  

Though a primal part of him could only purr at that. Liking the idea very much that it would be his smell that coated her.  

But as much as this primal part of him would like that - it was still Elain’s decision if she wanted to stay. Wrapped up in his arms and scent.  

The shadowsinger was not aware of the effect he had on her as he pulled their bodies together. Needing a slight moment of shock as her nose suddenly breathed in his strong smell. The herb smell of cedar and night chilled mist dancing in her nose trills, along with the heavy scent of his sweat.  

But she didn’t mind – couldn't bring herself to mind as her hair stuck to his sweat sticky chest. The flight and perhaps a bit of training having caused it to appear.  

She loved him.  

Was all she could think, as he pulled her closest to his heart. Those cold hands of hers rising to rest calmly on his muscled back. Only a few inches away from those gorges stems of his wings.  

Pulling him ever so tight as they stood enveloped in shadows and night.  

His warmth enveloping her entirely. While she listened to the most beautiful song, she ever heard – his heart beat. Azriel’s strong heartbeat, that kept thrumming against her ear, a steady lullaby that lured her in.  

Making the exhausted seer forget about all the failure of this evening.  

“Have you found out something today?” was still a question that wrestled itself free from her, as she respired it against his skin.  

Azriel’s wings flaring for the slightest of bits as she did so. This deep voice of his, rasped, while he caressed her pointed ears with this ravenous sound.  “Despite that most humans still don’t like us – nothing.”  

A heavy sigh escaped her. “Have you found out something from Jurian?”  

Elain heard a slight spike in his voice as he spoke the human man's name. Something that made her heart grow fussy and caused her skin to heat. A question she wanted to ask him so bad, never leaving her lips; ‘Are you jealous, Azriel?’

Oh, and how he was jealous! His heart having flared up the entire dance he witnessed them dance, giggles coming over those plush lips of the seer while she shared this playful side with Jurian.  

He knew he had no right to be jealous. Had spent the entire evening away from her – silently interrogating woman for woman. As his heart was stuck with the female, that listened in carefully into these hushed conversations between the humans, in a silent corner.  

Azriel would have loved to spent the evening with her, would have loved to let his shadows dance along to her soft light. But he knew of the importance this secret mission had for her.

And so, he took the stab to his heart and asked quietly around for his information, never too pushy as the eyes of his dance partner rested on him, a kind smile –so they thought- resting on his face while they danced and he interrogated them.  

Dance for dance had hurt his heart and drove an invisible dagger a bit deeper. Well aware that Elain had only danced with one man before Jurian had asked her, while he was away. Twirling dozens of women as the evening aged.  

Elain didn’t have the freedom, on this ball, like him and Lucien. She had known of the etiquette of the mortals, yet she had asked one to dance with her.  

Having picked that one with prying ears and careful eyes as he had complained all evening about the fae that attended the festivities. But he had grown quiet as a mouse when he noticed the attention of the beautiful fae female.  

How Azriel would have loved to switch places with this mortal – a wish that had never even crossed his mind before.  

And sweet Elain – resting in his arms as she did not quite answer his question – took her hands from his back and peeled those scars covered hands off her waist. Letting those gentle fingers of hers interweave with his thick scarred ones. “Dance with me.” was all she pleaded with a smile.

This blinding smile of hers, turning him into a slave of his feelings as he could not deny her this wish – not if it was his one too.  

A dance gentle and soft, as a flower, blooming between them. While they swayed to tunes of music that were playing far away from them. Tones of softly played music resting in both of their ears as they imagined the Starfall from last year.  

Soon picking up where they had last ended their dance on one of the balconies at the house of wind.  

Elain’s light satin gown swaying and circling as he spun her round and round. Letting her twirl freely at one of his hands. Pulling her tight her so gently as her bubbly laugh echoed through the dark chamber.  

A smile spreading on his lips once he saw those lively eyes of hers again, that sparkled from life under the hue of moonlight. Every ounce of jealousy forgotten.  

“I only got some information on a bet I have with him.” was all she giggled as he pulled her close to his still naked chest.  An eyebrow rising at her in confusion while he twirled her.  

This sapphire blue skirt of hers clothing her just as elegant as any evening gown as it splayed out around her.

“Care to explain it to me?” “Only if you join us first. We are already seven months into the bet. Jurian has bet for one and a half year, while I am at nine months.”  

Azriel sighed in defeat, his voice a silent chuckle as he did so “Fine. I’ll stay close to you – ten months. For whatever it is you are betting for.”  

An innocent smile on her lips, had him stumbling over one of his coffers, as she answered him. “We are betting on how long it will take for Lucien and Vassa to hook up and finally admit their feelings.”  

There were few times in his life that had him speechless, fewer times even that had him shocked off guard. He hated to admit that this was one time of those.  

His clumsy feet having stumbled over the heavy leather coffer, just as he twirled Elain back in.  Both of their eyes wide open in shock as he pulled them down – expecting a hard fall as they did so.  

But a fall never came as he landed with his back on the bed, wings flared out wide, while the seer crushed down on his muscled body. Clearly not having seen that one coming, as her eyes rested in shock on his face.  

A bubbling laughter escaping her, when she had seen his eyes. Those wide baffled hazel eyes that knocked the breath out of her lungs as she took him in.  

“Why would you bet with Jurian about this? Lucien is your mate after all.”  

It took Elain some time to answer, but the kind blinding smile had his heart stopping, those soft lips of hers leaning forward to him. Pushing a feather light kiss to his chin – the only place of his face she could reach nestled in his arms like this. Some of the sweetest words he had ever heard, breathed against his skin.  

“Lucien isn’t my mate. Not anymore – not since seven months.”  

Azriel’s breath was stuck in his lungs when he saw Elain’s smiling eyes. That seemed to speak a language on their own as they watched him carefully. Soft caramel Irises searching his tearing hazel ones.  

This beating muscle inside his chest, brimming over with love and hope while he couldn’t restrain himself.  

No shadow, no leash – nothing- on this world would have been able from pressing his lips to those of his friend – his love. A wide smile plastered among her lips.  

The knowledge, that she had teared his walls apart having her floating. Floating in a deep dark night sky together with him.  

His heart having finally overcome a part of his love he feared.  

He feared of the bond between Elain and Lucien. His shadows telling him at darker nights, that even if she chose him – she would never truly want to be by his side. She would always carve to be by the side of her mate.  

And in order to protect himself from the pain - it would cause this stoned heart of his to shatter – he never let himself hope of a future next to the seer.  

Had never imagined for one night, that this – her lips on his- could be more than a fantasy.  

Soaring in his love, he wasn’t able to control himself. Azriel’s muscled body flipping Elain over, burying her under his love and wings. Those thick arms of his and strong legs to each side of her body.  

This sweet taste of her lips leaving his as soon as he was braced atop of her.  

Wide eyes looking into each other, while silence stretched between the two – both baffled at how it came to this.  

But it was the Spymaster that broke the silence “What are we even doing in the same chamber?”  

Elain had wondered the same as she first saw Azriel standing in the middle of her room. But her heart was so enwrapped by the sight of him – this dark form of his glittering under the moonlight- that every other thought of her mind had left her. Flying out of the open window and never even thinking of coming back to her.  

It was a good question though and yet she couldn’t quiet take Azriel serious. Biting her lip to stifle a giggle while his baffled face looked down on her. This tousled mass of hair atop of his head screaming for her to bury her fingers inside them.  

“I don’t know. This is the room Jurian had led me to. I honestly didn’t mind any room, as long as I would be able to find sleep in a bed.  It was not my intention to scare you in your chamber.”  

If the shadowsinger was confused before, then Elain wondered what he was now as his thick eyebrows furrowed together deep in thought. Before he decided to change the direction of things, crawling back into his interest self “I’ll sleep on the floor.”  

Elain’s body reacted to him, in the matter of a split second. Holding tight to his arms that were brace on either side of her face. “Azriel, I don’t know if you noticed that the bed is big enough for the both of us to fit.”  

“I am afraid I’ll make you do things you will later regret.” was all he could breathe. His entire being growing still as stone above of her, once the doubt had settled into his very bones. Drumming a hurting melody of unworthiness on them.  

It had hurt the seer to know of this melody, knew that only mere moments ago she felt the same drum clashing through her. But he was there. Called upon her with his heart as she doubted herself and she would gladly be there for him too. Showing him the love, he deserved. Along with all his worth that beat in his chest as she lifted her hand once again.  

Hot skin meeting cold one.

 The soft, warm touch of her delicate fingers seemingly melting away the ice that cloaked his skin.  

“Azriel. I think you have known long enough already – that I don’t do things others expect of me. Not anymore. Not after you showed me the happiness a decision could bring, if I made it for myself.”  

Her stern, soft eyes looked up at him “I am not the fae I once was. You have helped me grow into the one I am now. And there will be no decision in my immortal life again, I did not truly wish for.”

She smiled up at him. This blinding smile of hers warming his heart, like the first sunrays of the sun that bid their good morning to the falling moon, as she rose. “Please, Azriel share a bed with me. I couldn’t live with the thought of having you freezing on the floor, while I truly wish of you to be by my side.”  

Her words had the mighty Spymaster on his knees, as he slowly crawled off of her. Settling himself under the blanket, waiting for the seer to come into his open arms. A deep blush covering his cheeks.  

It were these words that had touched his heart. That had reached it with all her entire blinding force. Melted the bars away from his caged heart.  

She wanted him by her side. Echoed her sweet words inside his ears, while she crawled up into his arms.  

Not minding the sweat of him, not minding that splayed out clothes on the floor that spilled from the coffer, not minding the nosy moon. That watched through their wide-open window how the spymaster and the seer settled for sleep.  

“How did you get to this room anyway?” mumbled Elain sleepily into the dark. Wrapped up comfortably in Azriel’s strong arms as her back was pressed to his chest. The nuzzle of his cheek against the crock of her neck, captured her breathe, as a knowing smile spread on Azriel’s sinful lips.  

“Vassa had given me a description of the way when we first arrived.”  

And with a final soft kiss to her tender flesh, did he bid her a wordless good night.  

Letting their dreams continue to dance among the stars in the endless realms of their mind.

* * * Vassa sat smugly at the long table in her dining hall, on the next morning. The mug of tea pressed against her lips as Jurian greeted her tiredly, “Morning.”  

“Morning.” she sang. Her cheerful voice having the human man halt in his task of loading scrambled egg on his plate. Those ocean blue eyes looking innocently over her cup into his face.

“Care to explain what happened?”  

“Oh nothing, its just - “she crashed the mug on the table and jumped to her feet. Her index finger pointing victoriously at him while she had the biggest smirk on her face. It was that bright that even the sun could have hid behind her, but luckily the sun was far from rising. So Vassa would have her time to explain everything.  

“- I have won the bet!”  

Jurian knew exactly of which bet she talked about.

 The shock over these news had him losing the fork with egg, he held in the air, spilling it all over the table as he slammed his hands on the tabletop – shoving his chair back as he rose.  

“You cheated! You definitely did!”  

Vassa’s smile only grew “You are to blame for this all by yourself, after all you have been the one that brought her to Azriel’s chamber.” Puzzled brown eyes met those devilish gleaming ones of the queen. “But Elain always stays in this chamber?”  

“Opps, looks like I hadn’t known.” Jurian was well aware to the play she had sat up. Her faked innocence for the topic at hand even audible for someone that was deaf. “Vassa that is not acceptable! And where do you even want to know of if they slept with each other?!”  

“I am having my sources.” was all she told him. The smugness radiating off of her as Lucien trotted in. His tired body holding on tightly to the cup of coffee in his hands. Showing those fangs of his, while a yawn wrestled itself free from him “Who had slept with who?”  

“Elain with Azriel!” beamed Vassa at the ginger haired male. The cup he held on so tightly, shattering on the ground.  

His entire being suddenly wide awake as his wide eyes looked at a smirking Vassa. Dread filling Jurian’s guts while he expected everything, but not what he got: “So, we have won?”  

“We have won.” declared the woman proudly. It was a matter of seconds in which Lucien’s long legs stepped with ease over the shattered coffee leftovers and picked up the queen. Twirling her with a wide smirk. Like two children that had found the other again, after they hadn’t seen each other for a while.

“We have won!” chimed both happily. Leaving a baffled Jurian at the side line.  

“Could you two put me in the picture as well!” “Lucien was my ‘source’.” 

The male only shrugged as Vassa called him out. Admitting full out that he had casted a monitoring spell on the room.  

Jurian could only hope, for their own safety, that when Elain found out - they were far, far away.  

But the other two seemed to have no remorse, that they possibly (most definitely) invaded their privacy.  

“Vassa, in what sense did you mean ‘they slept with each other’?” He suddenly wondered aloud. Something didn’t ad up to him, as she celebrated her triumph.

It seemed like as if he hit the target right, as her shoulders grew stiff. The quiet mumble that left her mouth, barely audible for him “Well, I mean it in the sense of … sharing a bed.”  

Normally the former general would have felt betrayed, but this time those news eased his strained nerves.  

‘Elain would have killed us all if she would have found out! Or Azriel’ was all he could think about. Glad to know that his human life has a couple of more years to last.  

Because it was clear as day to all of them, that there would be nothing in this world that could stand against the anger of these two – if they ever should find out that someone disturbed the privacy of their loved one, not caring at all about their own one.  

And while Vassa, Jurian and Lucien ate breakfast until the sun rose, they let them sleep. Smiling happily at the thought that their friends had finally found their way together.  

Letting their hearts finally dwell in the company of each other.  

The blooming seer and death incarnate had a long way to go after all.  

[yandere-wishes]

🕌 A Whole New World // Yandere Kalim Al-Asim x Reader//🕌

Worst thing I’ve ever written 😭  😭 😭 😭 But it’s out before the new chapter so I’m content lol.

 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌

"Oh my isn't it amazing?" (y/n) hugged the book closer to her chest an excited squeal leaving her lips as she laid down flat on the plush Persian carpet. Kalim crawled over to where she was abandoning his conversation with Jamil and half-eaten sandwich. "What'cha reading," the young prince asked curiously. 

(y/n) lazily cracked open an eye, her bright smile ever-present. "It's the 1001 Arabian nights! The one by that famous storyteller from the Land of Hot Sands! " Her voice held a dreamy tone. Kalim's eyes widen in some sort of foreign comprehension. Nostalgia flashed in his marigold orbs. "Jamil! Do you remember those stories from when we were little?" His head wiped around, eyeing his childhood friend. The black-haired youth-only nodded absentmindedly as he chewed on his sandwich. "Jamil use to read me one of the Arabian night's stories before I went to bed each night!" Jamil just hummed in agreement, he seemed too wrapped up in intentionally ignoring the conversation. 

Kalim flopped on his back, arms pulled back acting as a pillow. His eyes never once left your frame, his piercing gaze was practically glued to your body. "SO~~ Which one is your favorite?" his tone was light and cheerful, he just seemed so oddly happy. Brushing it off you guessed it might have just been the sentimentality talking. Mentioning those old stories must have stirred some childhood reminiscence. Your eyelids fluttered downwards, closing in thought as your mind raced through the countless stories you had consumed throughout the day. But there was one that seemed to shine rather brightly in your head.

"I guess the lovers of Bassorah, there's just a sort of hopeful ring to the whole story...It's hard to explain but it kinda proves that true love isn't just an open pathway. There are numerous difficulties that lovers must face before they can hold each other in their arms." When you finally opened your eyes again, you noticed that Kalim's grin had been replaced with a quizzical look.  His eyes scrunched, traversing between you and Jamil. Signing the older boy, he finally shuffled over to the two of you. He crossed his leg before explaining the story to Kalim. Realization dawned on the white-haired boy, you listened in wondering if Jamil had actually memorized the old folk tale. But as the story progressed there seemed something off about Jamil's retelling, something gritter, grimmer even...It was wrong, so wrong that it sent a flood of shivers up your spin. But a quick glance at Kalim made it obvious that the prince was not only undisturbed by the fables 

The sun had started to die quite some time ago. The sky was painted in bright melting colors that seemed to resemble sugary sweets. Jamil and (y/n) had started packing up the little picnic while Kalim sat and watched. His red eyes followed (y/n) as she nimbly picked up the plates and leftover food. She was so breathtaking, so enchanting, something about the way she moved and talked had poor little Kalim bewitched. He couldn't help the fantasies that kept sprouting in his mind. The longing to hug you close to his chest, to feel your warmth, breath in your scent.  He could imagine them so vividly that they were practically felt real. 

With a heavy sigh Kalim waved good-bye as the young girl walked away to her dorm room, book pressed close to her heart. 

Kalim watched with a  downhearted look as the last rays of sunlight screamed for help before being engulfed by the darkness of the night. Every couple of moments the young prince would tear his gaze from the starry tapestry to throw a childish lovesick complain to his childhood friend -who's body was beginning to tremble with visible annoyance- each nag circulated around the same premiss. "Why doesn't (y/n) love me?" over and over and over again. Really Kalim didn't mean to be a bother he was so wrapped up in his sorrow that he could bother to remember what words had slipped from his lips moments ago. It was well into the late-night when Kalim turned once more to Jamil his shoulders slumped, poster slagging. His mouth opened, but before any words could escape into the large room. Jamil stood up, feet stomping on the rug under him. Angrily Jamil marched over to Kalim his arms swinging before grabbing ahold of Kalim's shoulders. His long nails dug into the royal's shoulders. "Listen Kalim, I'm getting sick of this puppy crush of yours! Can you please just forget--" Jamil stopped mid-sentence, his grey eyes widening as a plan hatched in his mind, slithering around the most devious parts of his brain. A smirk formed on his chapped lips, "Kalim!" His excited tone reverberated off the walls. "Grab the flying carpet! We're going to get you a date!" Jamil ran for the door, picking up the dorm leader staff on his way. Kalim watched his friend race out the room, he remained stunned for a second before he ran after Jamil yelling; "But where do we keep the flying carpets?? Jamil! Help!" 

The cool night air washed over you, as you stood by the window, brush in hand, combing your messy locks. Your eyes carelessly jumped from star to star, soaking in their twinkling brightness. Each star seemed to sparkle a little more vividly when your gaze landed on it. It was almost like they were silently wishing you goodnight....or warning you about the secrets the night was hiding. 

You were shaken from your stargazing by the sound of a slamming door. You didn't think much of it, brushing it off as just being one your friends sneaking in for a late-night chat. Casually you turned around, only to be stricken by a wave of fear, slither across your lavish dorm room, was something out of a nightmare. A larger then life serpent was bolting for you, it's scales glittered in the chandelier light, flashing between shades of gold and ruby sometimes even turning as pitch black as a starless midnight. Its tongue flickered out sniffing the air then crashing back between its lips. For a fraction of a second, your eyes met, the monstrous snakes grey orbs seemed to be mocking you. You were sure that if he was able the monster would have been laughing at your distress. 

With each step you took in retaliation, the snake slithers forward, it's towering body was constantly looming over your petit frame. You were pushed up against the open window, no place left to hide. The snake was far to close, it's tongue grazed your cheek each time it darted outwards. You were finished, hopelessness was to the only feeling that floated through your body. You closed your eyes, ready to accept your fate. That was until a gust of cold wind blew across your face, carrying with it the sound of your name. At first, you kept your eyes closed, blaming it on your subconscious. But the noise of your name kept coming back to your ears. Finally, in a desperate attempt, you dared to turn away from the snake and spare a glance outside. Your eyes widen, hope bubbled in your gut. Standing outside your window floating on one of the infamous flying carpets was nonother than the dorm leader of Scarabia. 

"(y/n)!" his voice was like a god sent, pure melody to your ears. "Do you trust me?" His hand was extended palm awaiting your own hand. You didn't think for a moment, instantly you reached out and grabbed his arm, permitting yourself to be dragged out the glass-less window. Your knees hit the concrete of the outer wall as you tumbled onto the flying carpet. The carpet didn't miss a beat, the second your flesh hit the rug, it was off soaring into the dark night. 

The icy wind blew across your face, your body was pressed suffocatingly close to Kalim's as he navigated the flying tool across the clouds. Your heart was still pounding in fear, each beat reverberated through your bones adding an additional layer of panic. The hight and constant maneuvering of the carpet did little to ease your stress. Nether you nor Kalim had spoken since the journey began. You bite your lip waiting for him to make the first move. To say something, anything! However, what ended up breaking the silence was rather unexpected joyous laughter coming from your companion. "That was a pretty convincing show that Jamil put on wasn't it (y/n)?" there was no malice in his tone if anything it came off more as if this was all a game. A young child laughing after a good game of hiding and seek.

You turned to Kalim with a shock written all over your face. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT! I JUST GOT ATTACKED..." Your breath caught in your throat, your lungs where heaving trying to pull in more oxygen to no avail. It only now began to dawn on you just how high up the two of you had gotten. Kalim must have also been facing the same problem as the leaned his weight to the front of the carpet, causing it to accelerate downwards. You let out a shrike of terror, arms wrapping around the white-haired youth. "that’s overexaggerated, it’s really isn’t that big of a deal”

Your eyes widened how could he not think that this was a big deal. It didn't matter wither that snake was really Jamil or not, the shock was real, the fear was real. "Is this some sort of cruel joke!" you yelled. Kalim shot you a confused look, one of his hands reached up to entwine his fingers in your flowing locks. “But I thought you said this kinda thing was hot!“ Kalim genuinely sounded both hurt and confused. His eyes were pooled with deep sadness. You gulped "What are you--" your memory flashed back to the stories the two of you had discussed earlier that morning. In each story, the protagonist had to stage some sort of clever catastrophe to earn their lover's affection. In multiple stories, the hero always lore their lover into some sort of danger then swoop in and save them. That was had happened, Kalim had tried to show you that he loved you by both putting your life in danger and saving it. "Kamil look I--" He pushed a finger to your lips, shushing you wordlessly " Stop pretending you don't want this, you and I, we're meant to be so just for tonight let's pretend we’re the only people in the world". For the second time, that night uneasiness overflooded your sense, but in an impulsive fit of bravery and longing, you waved it off. Nodding as you wrapped your arms tighter around Kalim's waist, enjoying the scenery of the sand dons and the sweet flowery scent that came from Kalim. 

You weren't sure when it had happened but at some point, the melody of the breeze along with the peaceful silence had lulled you into a tranquil slumber. You were stirred from your sleep by the rays of the rising sun. Slowly you pushed yourself up, there was something off about the bed you where laying on, somehow it felt much plusher than your own bed. As you attempted to turn you felt a sharp pain pulling you back onto the mattress. You moved around tugging your arms forward only to see the metal cuffs, orienting your wrists... something had happened during that carpet ride, what it was exactly you weren't sure. But you knew that you would soon get your explanation once Kalim returned. 

In one of the rooms in  Scarabia, a bloodcurdling scream could be heard. Blood trickled down Kalim's arm. dripping onto the carpets and oozing into the seems. Joyfully Kalim spun around, droplets of the crimson liquid flying off in all directions. Jamil sighed as he began dragging the body. "stop making a mess Kalim. Don't you think it was wrong to kill the boy? He was just a friend of (y/n)'s, nothing more." The white-haired royal stopped to look at his friend, a bright smile plastered across his face. “Nothing we do will ever be wrong if it's for (y/n)! She can't have anyone else but us in her life! They'll just be distractions!" Jamil rolled his eyes as he continued pulling the lifeless corps out into the balcony to be turned to dust. All the while Kalim skipped behind him joyfully humming some old tune and dreaming about his awaiting darling. 

[thecleverdame]

Gods of Twilight - 18

Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Human!Reader

Master List (posting schedule is there as well)

Summary: You marry Sam, The King of Lebanon, as part of an alliance between two lands. You soon discover that nothing is as it appears and that your husband is hiding a secret that may end your relationship before it can begin.

Warnings: smut, dub-con, canon-level violence, domestic discipline, spanking.  This chapter does contain some non-con elements.

Beta:  @ilikaicalie​

*This story is complete. All 27 chapters are available on Patreon. To get access to this and many other stories, subscribe for a pledge of 2.50 per month. CLICK HERE

-

Sam stands behind you with arms crossed over his chest, watching the midwife examine your bulging belly.

“You’re larger than I would expect for seven months,” she states evenly, feeling the underside of your stomach through your nightgown. “Are you in any discomfort?”

“No, I feel strong. Energized.”

“And you’ve been sleeping well?”

“I’ve slept better these last 2 months than ever before. My only complaint is how hard he kicks now. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to make it through another two months if he’s going to grow stronger.”

“I’m afraid that’s part of motherhood.” Martha smiles.

“Show her,” Sam nods, his jaw locked.

He’s constantly worried about you. If it’s not an outside threat from some vengeful townsperson, it’s your health and this child.

Sighing, you lift your gown to show her your ribs. She does a double-take, looking at you in silent question and inching closer. There are black and blue marks up and down both sides of your stomach.

“This is the child?” she gasps, directing her question towards Sam.

“She’s in pain. It’s worse in the evenings,” he explains, running a hand over his mouth. “You should feel how hard he kicks, it’s unfathomable. I’m concerned he’ll break her ribs.”

“It’s that painful?” she asks you.

“Only during the night, and it’s never for too long.” You force optimism. One of you has to see the sunny side of things. “He gives me some relief during the day.”

Martha chews on her lower lip. She thinks hard and then stands up straight, pausing before speaking directly to Sam.

“I've lived here all my life, my king. I was born into service, just as my mother. I am loyal. I see the things that go on here, strange things. If there is something I should know, secrets you’ve hesitated to tell me for fear of gossip, I would encourage you to tell me now. We both want the same thing, to deliver a healthy child and keep your wife alive and thriving. In order to do that I need full information.”

Looking back at Sam you wait for his refusal, but instead he smashes his lips together as he contemplates her request.  

“You can never tell another living soul,” he instructs.

“Of course, my king.”

“And if you do, you’ll die as the penalty.”

You look down at your hands, wishing desperately that you weren’t privy to this kind of ultimatum. It’s not often you see or hear this side of him and it’s unsettling to hear him whisper death threats in the confines of your bedroom.

“I understand,” Martha confirms without pause. “Now tell me everything.”

She sits and listens, calm and collected, as Sam explains about wolves and shifters. He offers all the details, explains how he came to be. And how this process usually works. She doesn’t bat an eye. On the contrary, she’s taking mental notes. Asking well thought out questions.

She doesn’t appear to be the least bit surprised.

“Is there anyone from your...” she struggles for the right word.

“Pack,” Sam helps her.

“Is there anyone from your pack that delivers the children? Is there a midwife?”

“Yes,” Sam nods, chewing on the inside of his cheeks as he looks from Martha to you.

“Then we should call her here to have a look at your wife. With our combined skills, we’ll have a better chance of accurately predicting what’s to come.”

“They’re unhappy that I’ve chosen to have a child with a woman who isn’t like the rest of the pack. I don’t trust anyone, other than you.”

Martha sighs, then nods. She could push the matter but she won’t. She knows her place and it's obvious how much he cares for you. If he thought it was a viable possibility he would have explored it already.

“I’ll be just fine,” you smile at your husband. “I’m strong and so is our baby. We’re both going to be just fine.”

10 Weeks Later

“Are you sure about this?” Martha asks. In these last weeks, she’s become your constant companion.

The carriage rocks side to side as you slowly ride toward the walls of the city.

“I need to walk. I need fresh air.” You close your eyes in concentration as the cramp in your back flares up. The pains are constant now. It’s not the child, or rather it’s not anything he’s doing. He’s simply large and active, and your body is having trouble dealing with the weight.

You begged Sam for a week. Pleaded with him to let you outside. Your muscles and hips ache and walking is the only activity that offers any relief at all. You’ve been around the halls of the castle so many times that it’s depressing to even think about being inside for another moment.

After several rounds of tears, he finally agreed to a brief outing.  

The child will come any day now and Martha helped affirm his decision by suggesting that a brisk walk could be exactly what you needed to get the process moving.

Now you’re bound for the fields just outside of the city’s wall, accompanied by not only the King, but a dozen knights as well.

When the carriage finally stops, Sam helps you out into the sunlight of the early afternoon. There’s a chill in the air, but you’re plenty warm. You’ve grown thicker in these last months, eating more and more to satisfy your child’s constant hunger.

“Where would you like to walk?” Sam asks.  His eyes are on the horizon. He’s always watching, looking for some invisible threat.

“There, closer to the trees.” You point across the field and Sam does the same as several knights trot ahead to ensure safe passage. Sam takes your arm and you walk, or a more appropriate term would be waddle, toward the lush pines.

You’re not fooled. There are things he’s not telling you, threats he keeps from you in the name of love. He doesn’t want to worry you, but in fact, his lack of forthrightness sends your mind reeling with the possibilities.

“Let me know if you grow tired and we’ll rest.”

“I’ve only been walking for a minute. I’m not impaired, I just move more slowly than I used to.”

“I’m surprised you want to be out here moving around at all.”

“It feels good. The pain goes away when I walk. I think he’s giving me this extra energy.” You smile upward, letting the sun wash over your face. “After he’s born will you take me riding? I long to be outside.”

“We’ll see,” Sam meanders at a snail's pace beside you. “You’re not too cold, are you? I can have Martha bring a cloak-”

“Stop,” you whine, looking to him. “Stop fussing over me and let me be. I want to walk in the country with my husband. It doesn’t have to become such a production.”

“I am only trying to do what’s best,” he counters and your heart sinks.

“I know, and I love you for it.” You pull yourself closer to him, leaning into his side as you walk. “I also wish for you to take me fishing. And star gazing on a summer night.”

“I had no idea you'd come up with such an extensive list.” He grins, his hand cupping your shoulder.

“Oh, that’s not all. I would like to travel. See faraway places, explore other kingdoms. Take our son to see the world. But I’ll start with an evening beneath the stars.”

“I will give you the moon itself once it’s safe. You’ll be free to roam far and wide.”

While your confines have worn your patience, your marriage has only grown stronger. There is genuine love and appreciation for each other. You have found a love that you never dreamed existed outside of your books. Despite his many great responsibilities, Sam finds a way to put you first, to make time for quiet moments together.

It’s what made the seclusion of this pregnancy bearable.

A lone rider approaches in the distance. Sam spots the horseman first, putting his hand out to stop you, but retracts it just as quickly. He must recognize whoever it is. As the rider comes closer you can make out the form of a petite woman with raven hair… Ruby.

“My king,” she’s breathless as she dismounts. “There’s been an attack to the north. Robert and Benjamin have been killed. Your brother was hurt but he’s alive. The men are coming together now in the Eastern Woods.”

“I have to go.” Sam shakes his head, turning to you, then back to Ruby. “Stay with my wife. Ensure that she gets to safety and then join us.”

“I will,” Ruby confirms, handing off the reins to Sam who mounts the steed.

“Be careful!” you call out, watching him ride away.

Ruby stands before you, examining your new appearance. Not many people have seen you since your belly began to grow. Her mouth goes tight, forcing a painful smile.

“You look as if you may pop at any moment.” She looks away, as if the sight of you makes her ill. “Come along, I need to get you to the carriage.”

She takes you by the arm, guiding you back toward the transport and Martha and Phillip are beside you in an instant.

“We need to move fast, my queen. There could be another attack planned.”

As if on cue, a dozen men on horseback burst from the tree line. The thundering hooves make the ground shake as they approach.

“Run!” Ruby grabs one hand and Martha the other, pulling you along as fast as your legs will carry you. As the riders close in, the Knights surrounded you in defense and Phillip plucks you off your feet and carries you in a sprint.

You’re halfway there when someone calls out a warning. Phillip is hit from behind and goes tumbling to the ground. You land underneath him, crushed by his weight as you wriggle free only to be met with the face of your assailant. He’s a hideous man with oily hair and yellowing teeth. He growls at you, smiling with a sickening grin as he brings a short knife down into your side.

You scream, clutching the wound as blood pours over your fingers. He’s coming back for a second stab as Ruby lurches toward him with a giant, jagged dagger in her hand. She rams it upward under his jaw and the blade cuts through blood and bone like a knife through butter. The instant she withdraws the knife, his lifeless body drops to the ground.

“Get up!” Martha is lifting you off the ground in some amazing feat of strength.

The two of you stumble thirty paces before a man charges with an ax raised in the air but Phillip gets to him before he can reach you. You scramble back toward the carriage, tripping over your own feet and falling to the ground.

Martha and Ruby manage to drag you inside the carriage and the instant the doors shut, you’re bound for the castle.

“He stabbed me!” You cry out in panic, frantically feeling your belly. “Did he kill my baby?”

Martha tries to find the wound, unable to examine it through your dress, but Ruby is already in motion. With a truly superhuman strength she tears your dress at the seams, then the layers underneath, leaving you naked from the waist up.

Your breasts and belly are coated in bright red blood, a sight that sends your heart into your throat.

“Please, don’t let anything happen to-”

“Calm down!” Martha yells, grabbing your jaw, forcing you to focus on her. “Stop, take a breath and calm down. You need to remain composed to prevent any further trauma.”

Martha and Ruby examine the stab wound, Ruby using the skirts of her dress to wipe the excess blood away.

“The knife caught you between the ribs,” Ruby explains, grabbing your hand with blood wet fingers. “Not your stomach.”

“You’re going to be just fine,” Martha soothes the hair back from your forehead as you lie between them on the floor of the coach.

A quick, tightening of your stomach takes your breath away. And then the pain comes and a wet sensation at your sex. You reach down, pulling up your dress and feeling between your own legs. When you withdraw your hand there’s nothing but more blood.

“He’s coming,” you gasp, looking at the blood on your palm. “I’m not ready.”

“Yes, you are my dear.” Martha pats your hand, then leans out the window and hollers to Phillip. “We need to move faster!”

“Where is Sam?” you plead. “I need him.”

“One of the knights will have gone to find him,” Ruby assures you. “He’ll come as soon as he hears you were injured.”

“What if they attack him?”

“He is the strongest of all of us and his men will protect him at all costs.”

The pain comes in waves, like the cramps from your monthly bleeding only so strong that it feels as if your stomach is tearing. You cry out as the carriage flees back toward the castle, feeling each bump along the way.

Phillip carries you up to your chambers, laying you on the bed as a swirl of activity bursts to life around you. The room is full of handmaids with Martha barking orders at all.

Time becomes a series of intervals between the pain of contractions. And they are coming closer and closer together.

It feels like hours before you hear Sam’s voice in the hall. Martha gets up and you listen to a muted conversation. He yells something and then there’s Dean voice, just as angry.

“Y/N?” You hear your husband’s voice, growing closer.

“Sam?” You reach out for him and his familiar hand takes yours. You sob in relief at the confirmation he’s alive and he won’t leave until this is over.

“I’m here,” his voice is close, as he leans down to talk to you.

“It’s not going very well,” you laugh, trembling as a feverish heat consumes you.

“You’re perfect,” his voice cracks. He clears his throat before continuing. “Martha assures me everything is going to be just fine.”

“Don’t lie to me.” His hand tightens around yours.

“I wouldn't dream of it.”

“It’s time,” you gulp, sweat rolling in beads down your forehead. The pain swells, a mighty crest that’s worse and more intense than everything that came before and your body begins to try to push the baby out.

“Push, just like we practiced.” Martha settles between your legs.

Bearing down, you push with all your might, feeling a second of relief before the contraction ebbs. Then the agony picks back up and you push again, something giving way and the child moves. It happens fast, one second you’re in unbearable torment and then all the pain stops and the baby leaves your body in a life-changing instant.

The room is silent. You wait for the squeal of your son, but there’s nothing. Sam’s hand is clamping over yours so tight he might break it.

“Is he alive?” you rasp, trying in vain to prop yourself up. You look up at Sam’s eyes, there are tears in each corner. “Is he alive?!”

“She is very much alive,” Martha appears above you with a wiggling little baby in her arms. “You have a daughter.”

You laugh, an exhausted chuckle and reach out for your child. Martha places her on your chest before exchanging a weighted look with your husband.

She’s a perfect, chubby girl with bright green eyes and a head of dark hair that is surely from her father. You cry freely, studying her face and gently touch her round, flushed cheeks.

“We have a daughter. I can’t believe it. Sam, look how beautiful she is.” You look up at Sam who’s breathing fast, his throat bobbing at the sight of you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he wavers. “I-I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You focus back on your baby, trying to think what you’ll name her. You were so sure she’d be a boy.

“Give us the room.” Sam wipes at his eyes.

Sam is most handsome when he’s happy, beautiful when his heart is full. He should be elated, but right now he looks as if he's been shot with an arrow. You watch everyone leave, except Martha who comes to sit on the opposite side of your husband.

“What’s happening?” The fear is creeping in as you look from her to Sam, cradling the baby resting on your chest.

“Shhh,” Sam strokes your hair, lowering down onto his side. “Just lie here with me and hold our daughter.”

In these last months, Martha subdued nearly all your fears. You’d heard horror stories of women in unbearable pain and were frightened of feeling yourself tear when giving birth. But she assured you, time and time again, that because there is such intense pressure during labor you wouldn’t be able to feel anything that happened.

As you lie in the bed, it dawns on you that you still can’t feel anything below your waist. You try to wiggle your toes but there’s no sensation. You look down at your naked body. While you can’t see much there’s a clear slick of red between your thighs, soaking the bed.

You’re still bleeding, bleeding too much.

“What's happening to me?” you whisper, kissing the tiny fingers of your sweet girl.

“It’s not important. Just enjoy this time together. That’s all that matters.” Martha says.

“I’m right here with you.” Sam nuzzles his forehead against your cheek, snuggling closer to you and his child. He’s crying.

You don’t want to ask. Don’t want the confirmation, but you need to know. You’re not long for this world.

“How much time do I have?”

“It won’t be long now.” Martha turns away, swallowing her emotion and getting up off the bed. “I’ll be in the hall when you need me.”

There’s a faint wispy fizzing in the back of your brain and a profound coldness rising up from your belly into your chest.

“I’m not ready to leave you,” you whisper. Words are becoming harder, your tongue thick and heavy.

“I know, my love.” Sam wraps his arm around you over your ribs. “I’m not either.”

“I’m scared, and I want to...stay here with...you two.” The words come slowly. “I’m...so...tired…”

“Close your eyes and go to sleep. There’s nothing to be scared of, we’re here with you. We love you.”

You don’t want to close your eyes, but Sam’s body is warm and comforting around you. The baby on your chest is cooing, a little mouth eager to find a breast. This must be what heaven will be like. Maybe you’re already there.

There’s a fleeting thought, a hope that you’ll stay with them always, and they with you. Your heart simultaneously swells and breaks as the life that could have been flashes before your eyes. This time was short but happy and as the end comes all you feel is the enveloping warmth of love holding you tight.

Surrounded by your husband and daughter you take a final breath and close your eyes.

[thestayway90]

Reign of Lies: Chapter 1 (SKZ Royal Fantasy AU)

Author: thestayway90

WC: 2873

Warnings: None

Characters: Stray Kids OT8 Royal Family, Alexis (OFC), Elora (OFC)

Relationships: Changbin x Alexis (OFC)

Summary: An angsty Royal AU where Alexis (OFC), as her fathers only daughter and therefore the kingdoms only Princess, is sent to marry a Prince of their rival Kingdom to ensure Peace. However, after arriving at her new home, Alexis quickly finds out not all is what it seems…

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! Did I start another series even though I’ve already got one still ongoing??? yes yes I did...

But in my defence I've had this idea sitting for a while and finally got round to doing something with it!!! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

Also a side note this will contain SKZxSKZ relationships... obviously these are written for fanfic and not based on reality so please don't take them seriously... this is all just for fun and entertainments sake :)

I’m a little nervous about posting this one but enjoy <3

Alexis straightened her skirts nervously. Her outfit felt heavy and suffocating in the warm sunlight that streamed through a large side window. The climate was so much warmer here than the cooler weather she was used to back home.

Elora stepped in front of her, deft fingers fixing Alexis’ collar as she told the older girl briskly, “Walk in there with your head held high and show them what you’re made of.”

Alexis smiled down at her sister and best friend, grasping one of her hands tightly. “What would I do without you?” She asked rhetorically as Elora took a step back, staying on Alexis’ right where she would always be within sight.

“You would be a mess,” Elora replied unnecessarily in a deadpan voice, drawing a surprised laugh from her sister.

Suddenly the double doors in front of the two girls was flung wide open and a herald bellowed loudly into the large space behind. “Princess Alexis, Duchess of Vitova and Alzilicia, beloved Daughter of King Tobias of Mava.” He took a breath then continued as the girls took their first steps through the doorway. “And her companion, Lady Elora.”

Alexis concentrated on not tripping over her cumbersome skirts, keeping her eyes on the floor until she reached the foot of a set of stairs that led up onto a low platform.

Pausing at the end, she sunk into a low curtesy, seeing Elora copy the movement in her peripheral vision, and finally looked up.

She sucked in a breath, wobbling a little in the curtsey she was still holding, as her eyes swept over eight imposing figures ranged around the front of the room.

Standing proud in the centre was who, she imagined must be, the King she had heard so much about. King Chan didn’t look as imposing as his reputation would suggest, an easy smile gracing his lips, his black hair cut short and shockingly coloured a bright ruby red on top.

Standing slightly back from his right shoulder was a man with the sculptured looks of a statue, and to the kings left stood four boys, who Alexis assumed were the Kings younger brothers, the Princes of Roalun. Alexis let her eyes linger on the four figures, wondering which one was Prince Changbin, her soon to be husband.

Finally her gaze fell on two boys, standing to the side of the platform, her eyes widening as she took in the most beautiful people she had ever seen. One was tall and lean, long blonde locks falling over his forehead, partly covering intense liquid brown eyes. The other was shorter with a petite figure and silvery blonde hair that seemed to shine even in the shadows he stood in. But it was his eyes that drew the most attention. One was such a dark brown that it looked black, the other, in stark contrast was a shockingly bright light blue. The pair made such an achingly beautiful sight that Alexis had to advert her eyes but couldn’t stop herself continuing to steal glances in their direction.

Alexis straightened from her curtesy and, heeding her sisters advice, held her head high, fixing the King with an unwavering gaze.

To her surprise King Chan smiled even wider at her and launched himself down the stairs, wrapping her in a tight hug when he reached the bottom.

“Welcome, Princess Alexis. The Kingdom of Roalun is so pleased to have you here at last.”

The King pulled back and kissed her on both cheeks.

Alexis startled a little, feeling unbalanced as she replied slightly stiffly, “Thank you for the kind welcome, Your Majesty.”

“Oh none of that,” the King scoffed, waving a hand at her. “We are soon to be Brother and Sister. Chan will do just fine.” Chan motioned for the five boys still up on the platform to join him.

He grabbed the sculpted man first, pulling him to his side and wrapping an arm lovingly around his waist. “Let me introduce you to my Husband, Prince Minho.”

Minho inclined his head, his feelings hidden behind his cool expression. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Princess Alexis.”

“Just Alexis please,” Alexis insisted, getting the feeling that this court preferred a less formal approach to their Royalty.

“And these three are my baby brothers.” The boys grimaced at the title, none of them looking even close to being babies. “Prince Jisung, Prince Seungmin and the youngest, Prince Jeongin.”

Alexis’ eyes drifted over the three very different brothers but her gaze settled at the last boy, standing silently, head bowed.

“And this is Prince Changbin, Heir to Roalun and your future spouse,” Chan introduced so casually that Alexis fought not to wince at the informality.

Changbin finally looked up, bowing low to her. “It is a great pleasure to meet you, Princess. I hope your time here will be agreeable.”

Alexis felt her heart drop at his distant but polite distant tone. His greeting made it sound like she was only visiting for a holiday, not moving to a completely foreign kingdom to become his wife.

Before she could speak to him at all, Changbin gave her another quick bow and then turned to Chan. “I really must be going, brother. The Generals are waiting for me.”

Chan’s brow creased into a frown but he nodded his consent. Changbin retreated at a brisk pace, Alexis watching after him in confusion.

Chan cleared his throat. “Unfortunately my brothers position as the Head of Military keeps him very busy.”

Alexis smiled and nodded her understanding, hiding her consternation behind what she hoped was a polite bland expression.

Chan then beckoned to the two boys still standing to one side.  “And these two fine gentlemen are my brothers, Lord Hyunjin and Lord Felix.”

Hyunjin groaned in a dramatic voice, rolling his eyes as he approached. “You know how I hate being introduced as Lord, Channie,” the tall blonde complained. He reached over and grasped one of Alexis’ hands, placing a quick kiss onto the back of it, smiling crookedly up at her. “I’m so happy to meet you, Alexis. I’m very glad to finally be adding some femininity to our little family.”

Chan glared at the inappropriate words while Alexis struggled not to turn and look at Elora as she heard the other girl suppressing laughter.

Alexis concentrated her attention back on the King. “I thought you only had four brothers?” She questioned unthinkingly, her curiosity around the weird dynamic of this foreign court getting the better of her.

Chan gave a loud bark of laughter, pleased at her straight forwardness. “Hyunjin and Felix’s father was my father’s best friend and advisor. When their parents passed away my father took them in as his own. We’ve spent our whole lives together.”

Alexis turned her eyes on the two brothers, Felix having joined them, standing silently next Hyunjin. “I’m very sorry for your loss. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine. Ask away,” Hyunjin said flippantly, waving his hands around airily. “This is to be your family as well. You have a right to ask about it.”

“Talking about family,” Alexis turned and beckoned Elora towards her, grabbing hold of the younger girls arm and holding her tight against her side, relieved at her solid presence. “This is my sister, Lady Elora.”

“Just Elora please,” Elora interrupted, shaking her head at the formal title.

“Lovely to meet you, Elora,” Chan said, smiling widely at Alexis’ sister, putting Alexis at ease.

Alexis immediately felt favourable towards anyone who treated Elora with kindness and respect. The younger girl had too often received scorn and distain from others, making Alexis very protective of her sister.

“I’m sure you are tired after your long journey,” the one called Jisung spoke up, clearly picking up the signs of exhaustion that both Alexis and Elora was exhibiting. “Should I show you to your rooms now so you can have a rest before dinner?” The kind boy posed it as a question, not wanting to impose on them.

“If His Majes…” Alexis stopped herself and continued pink staining her cheeks, unused to such informality. “If Chan does not mind us being excused. A rest sounds wonderful right now.”

Chan frowned a little, concern creasing his brow. “Oh dear. In my excitement I forgot what a long day you’ve both had. Of course you may go, please. Go rest and we can talk more over dinner.”

Chan gave both Alexis and Elora tight hugs before Jisung beckoned for them to follow him out. Alexis and Elora curtseyed to the royal family and then exited the throne room, feeling much more relaxed than when they had entered.

Jisung chatted amiably as he led them through a maze of corridors before stopping in front of a pair of large doors. Alexis looked at the masterpiece in front of her in awe as she heard Elora’s quiet exclamation of amazement.

Jisung had a smug look on his face. “Do you like them? They were specifically made for you. In fact the whole room was specifically decorated for you.”

Alexis felt her heart constrict at the startling act of thoughtfulness that she hadn’t expected when being forced into an arranged marriage in a country at war with her own.

The doors were painted a solid gold with beautifully ornate pearl and turquoise inlays making up intricate patterns of flowers and animals. Alexis raised a hand to brush against a perfect depiction of a peacock with full plumage proudly of display.

“He heard you liked animals.” Jisung’s voice pulled Alexis out of her reverie and back to the present.

“Who heard?” She asked unthinkingly, still in awe of the artwork that was simply the entrance to her rooms.

“Changbin of course,” Jisung said matter-of-factly, reaching over and pushing the doors open. “The inside is all Hyunjin though,” the boy continued as he stepped inside, Elora following close behind him.

Alexis took one more moment to admire the first sign of consideration that she’d received from her future spouse, before following the other two inside.

This time the opulence before her made Alexis’ jaw drop and eyes widen in shock, as she turned in a full 360 to try and take in every detail surrounding them.

The colour palette of the door was continued into the rooms, gold, pearl and turquoise hues mirrored throughout the furnishings and decorations.

They were standing in a large sitting area, the ceiling draped in gold and white cloth, a large brazier of gold hung from the ceiling dripping strings of pearls that sparkled in the late afternoon light. The chairs were large and comfy, their brilliant turquoise upholstery offset by gold trim. A low table stood before a fireplace, surrounded by multicoloured floor cushions and covered by an intricately embroidered table runner that depicted brightly coloured scenes of animals found in Roalun. Through a set of white shuttered doors to her right, Alexis could see an absolutely enormous fourposter bed draped with beautiful hangings of sheer gold and turquoise.

But what attracted Alexis attention the most were the doors directly in front of her that were flung wide open giving an unobstructed view of the outside. She walked over, feeling like she was in a haze, out onto a large balcony, pressing up against the railing as she took in the view.

As the Palace was built strategically at the top of a hill, the city of Epiris was laid out like a tapestry below her, extending down the slope until it hit the bank of Lake Lilies, continuing to spread along the lakes edge on either side. The lake was a breathtaking sight, glistening in the sunlight, large enough that you could barely glimpse the other side. She could see from her position the place where the Mairis River flowed into the lake and immediately took in the two garrison towers on either side, brows pinching when she remembered exactly why she was here.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” Jisung said as he came to stand beside her. Elora was still inside, already starting to unpack their trunks, always happier when things were in their proper place.

“It’s stunning,” Alexis agreed, closing her eyes for a moment and basking in the sunlight. They stood in silence for a moment, Alexis feeling slightly bewildered with how comfortable she was already feeling in her new home.

“Can I ask you something?” Jisung sounded hesitant. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t feel like it.”

Alexis opened her eyes and looked over at him. He now had his back towards the view, leaning against the railing as he fixed her with a serious look.

“Sure.”

“Did you have a choice? About coming here, I mean?”

Alexis considered the question for a moment, her silence making the other boy jittery.

“Not exactly,” Alexis finally answered. “I’m sure if I had put up more of a fuss, the King wouldn’t have sent me, but I’m also pretty sure if I’d done that he would’ve renounced my title, leaving me with no prospects and no way to keep Elora safe.”

Jisungs expression softened, pity shining in his eyes. “Not really a choice then,” he commented softly.

“Not really, no,” Alexis replied, giving him a small smile. He returned it with one of understanding, making Alexis wonder what non-choices had been given to him and the close-knit family around him.

“You know we didn’t even know Roalun had a Princess until Chan told us about you coming to marry one of us,” a voice chimed up from behind them, making both of them spin around in shock. Jeongin, the baby of the family, stood in the doorway, his face openly curious.

“Jeongin, you can’t just walk into other peoples rooms,” Jisung berated his younger brother, looking ready to throttle the boy.

“The door was open.” Jeongin shrugged slightly, not seemingly bothered by the scolding.

He fixed his gaze back on Alexis. “Are you really a Princess? Because I learnt in History that King Tobias only had sons.”

Jisung whacked the younger boy over the head. “You don’t ask questions like that you dimwit!”

“It’s okay. He should know if I’m to be his sister-in-law,” Alexis consoled the embarrassed elder boy.

She turned her gaze back to Jeongin. “My father is the King but my mother isn’t Queen Lillian. My mother is her sister, Lady Edelyn, the former Duchess of Vitova and Alzilicia. The Princes are my half-brothers. The reason you didn’t know that Roalun had a Princess is because up until a month ago there wasn’t one. Although the King had claimed me as his daughter, I was still only a Lady, one day to be Duchess of my mother lands. However, when the King saw an opportunity to seal the Peace Treaty with Roalun by connecting our two Kingdoms through marriage, he gave me the title of Princess and shipped me off here, and as my mother is dead there was no one to stop him doing it.”

Jeongin looked shocked, eyes wide as he tried to make sense of Alexis’ story. Jisung on the other hand didn’t look surprised, his expression empathetic, which made the newly made Princess feel a little bit better about exposing her complicated past.

“Does that make you a Princess as well?” Jeongin unthinkingly asked Elora as the other girl joined them.

Alexis stiffened, immediately shooting Jeongin a glare, even though she knew he didn’t mean any harm by it.

Elora grimaced and shook her head, quickly blurting out, “No, I will never be a Princess,” before quickly disappearing back inside.

Jisung slapped Jeongin over the head once again. “Idiot!”

“Wait, what did I say?” Jeongin was genuinely confused which made Alexis soften her irritation at the younger boy slightly.

“It’s a sensitive topic for Elora. Just leave it alone, alright,” she told him, a hand going to her forehead and her exhaustion finally caught up with her.

“If you don’t mind, I think I might go lay down for a bit,” she told the two boys, walking back inside.

“Of course. Someone will come and get get you when it’s time for dinner,” Jisung said, taking Jeongins arm and dragging him out of the room with him. Jeongin smiled widely and gave Alexis a cute wave goodbye before the door slammed shut in his face.

Alexis smiled and gave a chuckle at the cute boy, shaking her head as she went to check on Elora.

She found her sister already asleep on top of the covers of her bed in her own slightly smaller room. Her face was still scrunched in distress and Alexis reached out a hand to smooth the hair off of her forehead, Elora immediately relaxing at her touch. Sighing, Alexis grabbed a rug and covered her up, quietly tiptoeing out of the room and softly closing the door behind her.

Fighting to keep her eyes open, she stumbled into her own room and crawled into the massive bed, burrowing deep under the covers.

The last thing she saw before succumbing to sleep was the detailed picture of a Mountain Lion painted onto the ceiling of her room, the sparkling afternoon sunlight making it look alive.

[kadeu]

Accepted — Saito Akari

♥   Saito Akari aka Yuki looks like Minatokzaki Sana (Twice) ♥   She was born December 29, 1942; making her 77 but appears 23 ♥   This Succubi is Pansexual and a Seven of Hearts ♥   She is a teller at Zuihuo Bank and Sex Worker at The Secret Room

Biography

As her heels scraped against the rough concrete sidewalk, Keiko Saitō contemplated the next move of her plan. Eun Mi had said he’d arrive by now, for at the stroke of midnight he would be due back to the Demonic realm. Thump. Thump. Her heart batted at her ribcage before plummeting into the depths of her stomach. Thump. Thump. Do you smell that? Thump. It’s him! Pale skin weakened by a week of decomposer stretched through the window of the carriage, transportation she would never be able to afford - courtesy of a centuries old ancestor that dared borrow from a Queen. Her predicament was one her parents, grandparents, and great grandparents had come to accept. It was fate that they’d be born and die indebted. Not Keiko. Never Keiko. She had given her last bronze coin to Eun Mi, a disgraced One of Hearts who had fallen from a King nearly three weeks prior, in exchange for information on Daichi Izumi, a Concubi known to frequent these streets in search of companions of the night. Eun Mi talked of riches and luxury, and Keiko wanted in. She wanted to taste freedom and experience the beauty of Kadeu from a higher rank - and that required money. Her plan of seduction would work. It had to.

“How much do you have on you, Mr. Izumi?”

For Yuki, there is no epic love story for her to model her relationships after, instead her life has become a product of an absent father and self-absorbed mother. Keiko was obsessed with the life she never had, and she was willing to cross anyone if that meant repaying her family’s debt - even her own daughter. A missing check here, a stolen card there; Yuki had been working for nearly ten years and had nothing to show for it. As her mother utilized her daughter’s money as an attempt to climb in ranking, her father ventured back to the Demonic realm, but not without leaving his daughter with a gift only a King would be able to give. 

“What’s in the bag, Akari?”

Not even the rains that continuously poured from the darkened skies could put a damper on the elation felt by Yuki as she gazed upon the platinum coins that sat cozily in their velvet pouch. She wasn’t sure how Daichi had heard of his fling’s pregnancy, and why it took nearly thirty years for him to reach out to the child bore of a woman’s determination and man’s lust. What she did know was that today, June 17, 1972, she had become a free woman. Dodging her mother’s rough grip, Yuki stumbled towards the door of their shack, her gaze unwavering. 

“Don’t try to contact me.”

That was over forty years ago, though, and to say Yuki’s life has changed since paying off her family’s debt would be an understatement. Armed with coinage in her pockets and honey in her hips, Yuki’s greatest desires don’t stray too far away from those that plagued her mother’s heart. Not even her current midrank of seven could suffice for the petite woman - oh no - you see, Yuki craves the wealth she sees flaunted inside the walls of The Secret Room. Her dreams are filled with images of furs and glittering jewels, fragments of a life she craves to live. 

“My brother left home last night. I think he’s joined the Resistance, I’m not sure - Yuki? Are you listening to me?”

Brown hair, tanned skin, a satin suit…she’d guess he was either a nine or ten. The last ten she had entertained left much to be desired in terms of payment and skill, and Yuki had been holding out for a facecard. He’d have to do though, especially since she’d been hoping to increase rank within the next week. With a glance to her left, she raked her eyes down the length of her coworker’s figure, her brain struggling to find the correct response. Truthfully, Yuki hadn’t given the Resistance a second thought, for she only heard about it through the whispered rumors spoken from the ruby painted lips of the women she worked alongside. Her coworkers at Zuihuo Bank wouldn’t dare mention a topic of this sort, but the dancers at the strip burned with a desire to gossip about the latest information told to them by the men and women they performed for. Make no mistake, she wasn’t an ignorant woman. Yuki remained fairly knowledgeable of the war ever since she was old enough to understand why the world around her operated the way it did. To her, however, focusing on anything that would prove to be a hindrance to her plan was out of the question. If she wanted to have power she would need to have a voice, and that only came with a high ranking.

“Your brother, yeah. He’ll be alright, I’m sure. Hey, what do you know about that guy? Over there, in the suit…”

Personality

Yuki is an enigma for even those that know her well. She is materialistic and superficial, but will undoubtedly lend a shoulder to cry on when necessary. Due to her upbringing she has become wary of those around her, often keeping many people close but never fully letting them in to know the true her - Akari Saitō. She can be bratty and conceited, but the air of intelligence and boldness that surround her makes even her worst enemies find her just a little bit endearing. She is respectful to lowrankers and highrankers alike, but her obsession with becoming wealthy makes her spare those of a lower rank the slightest of glances. Yuki is impulsive, childish, jealous, manipulative, and forgetful, yet she is also playful, intelligent, passionate, confident, and witty. Her dual sides earn the girl her fair share of enemies and admirers.

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[tsukaramachi]

Hide and seek (Vincent x reader)

(I didn’t have time last time to draw out the drool prompt because I was finishing up school work because it was the last day of the first quarter and I was watching anime aha, but I made this based off of the prompt and that vampiresh Vincent doodle)

Running down the dimly lit alley way, water splashed against your legs as you stepped onto countless rain puddles. The cool air harshly pricking at your skin made your fingers feel numb and the puffs of white breath that left from your lips grew. Even if your feet are aching and your eardrums kept pounding into you head, you never stopped. Oh how dumb you felt for not noticing sooner the season sooner. The crisp red and golden leaves, the cool breeze in the air and the more frequent drops of rain showering the area. It was finally fall and it had been settling in while you were preoccupied with your school work. Yes, it was a time to have fun and appreciate the shift from the fun beaches and hot summer sun to the cool and pleasant qualities of autumn, but you didn’t have time to think about those things.

You had a yearly tradition with your beloved companion Vincent: Hide and seek. The game that many children love to play and even adults for the idea of the thrill of being close to be found. But the fun tradition you played had slowly become more intense. Vincent’s behavior became more clingy as you got older and the pure fun activities you enjoyed so much would sometimes cross the line. The rewards he asked for if he won became more intimate. At first it was a one minute hug then it became five minutes. Then that hug evolved into holding your hand for an hour to having you spend three hours of your day with him. Then a peck on the cheek added on with a hug session. This year, his new proposal was daunting and sent a chill up your spine. For the rest of the month of october, you would free up your schedule and spend it solely with him, day and night. It didn’t scare you at first, but fear of the unknown slowly crept up on you and seized your heart. You felt afraid, nervous, and anxious as to what’s in store for you, but Vincent fed more into that fear with his secretive attitude. Whenever you asked him what he was doing during his free time, he would just smile at you and lift his gloved hand to his lips and pretend to lock his words away with an imaginary key.

So you were stuck, trapped in this yearly game. You didn’t want to go back on your word, but you had stopped winning these games after the time limit to stay hidden became longer. You kept on losing and you were now risking your freedom for the whole month. You feel you aren’t in danger, but for the strange dread that continues to brew within you, it sure feels that way. Going up to the local library, you looked up at the darkened gray sky as it gave the tall building a dreary vibe. You make your way in and see that there are only a handful amount of people around, so you head towards the back area to a place you know no one would ever look. Walking past the walls of books, you slip into a door in the back that lead to a separate room from the rest of the library.

Gliding your hand against the wall to find the light switch, you stop. Realizing that the light might crack through underneath the door, you didn’t want to take the risk of getting found. So you stepped in, slowly closing the door behind you. It was too dark for you to really see anything, but the light from the other side of the door slightly leaked through. You could make out some of the objects in front of you and cautiously make your way to the back. A small gap behind a bookcase revealed a large empty box and you step inside. Lowering yourself down, you bring the lid down as well and hug your knees to your chest. It was small, but it wasn’t uncomfortable so you can manage. Taking out your phone, the screen illuminates the image of you and Vincent smiling happily together. Putting the phone to mute and shutting it off, you place it on the side and wait silently.

Minutes pass and maybe even an hour, but you felt confident that you wouldn’t be found. You never had tried to find use the library before and Vincent wouldn’t know about it. Your previous hiding spots were in locations you had visited with Vincent, but this year you specifically went out by yourself to find a good hiding spot. Although, you feel as you should have planned out a better way to pass time as you waited for you were stuck here now for almost the whole day. This library is special due to it staying open 24/7 for college students to pull all-nighters, but waiting alone in a dark room in an enclosed space isn’t the best spot to keep yourself busy. So closing your eyes, you begin to count the seconds that’ll lead to your freedom.

—————————————–

“Excuse me miss…are you alright?”

Opening your eyes, you feel a slight coolness present on your chin. You reach to wipe it, but realize that you had drooled from probably dozing off. Quickly, you vigorously wipe away the saliva on your chin with your sleeve. Giving your attention to the stranger, you’re struck by awe at his features. A sweet smile paired with kind ruby eyes and snow white hair bangs that framed his face; you feel your heart skip a beat as he helps you out of the box. You feel embarrassed at how you were found by someone so cute, but you realize that you don’t know the time. Grabbing your phone out of the box, you check the time. A sigh of relief flows out of you as the time is 11:50 pm. A small smile creeps up on your lips as victory will soon be yours. Turning to the white haired boy, you ask him for a small favor. “Can you help me find a place to hide for a bit? Somewhere quiet and not well known is good and uhm…I’ll also explain why I was in a box…”

“O-Oh sure, um here we can go into the break room. I’m the only one on the night shift so we can go there.” he says as he points towards the checkout area. As you follow the worker to the back, you noticed that there was no one within the library. But even though there was no one around you still had to be cautious until it reached midnight. The white haired boy pulls out a seat for you as you walk into the room with a tan table in the center. You thank him and sit down while he heads to an adjacent room. You hear him shuffle around and a stove turn up. You’re curious as to what’s he’s going but you decide to sit and wait. A few minutes later, he comes back out with two white mugs of hot cocoa.

“Here you go.” He says with a smile. You take it gratefully and give him a small smile. Blowing over the hot surface, you try to cool it down before taking a sip. The boy smiles at you while he takes a seat opposite of you, holding the mug in his hand. Rich hot chocolate and cream glides down your throat and you’re able to taste some of the mini marshmallows inside. You let out an exhale as the warm liquid settles in your tummy.

“Is it good?” he asks as he stirs his drink with a spoon.

You nod happily, “Oh right, um sorry I didn’t introduce myself before but my name is (Y/N), and you are..?”

“Ah I’m sorry, my name is Yuuto. Oh, would you like some whip cream with your chocolate?”

“Yes please! I actually like to put some in after my hot chocolate has cooled down and it’s the perfect temperature.”

He nods and goes back into the kitchen and comes out with a can of whip cream and a small piece of chocolate. He walks over to you and you hand him your mug, he puts just the right amount before handing it back to you along with the piece of chocolate nestled in the top. You thank him again and you take another sip.

“So miss (Y/N), why were you hiding in the storage area?” Yuuto asks as he takes his seat again.

You finish the last of your hot cocoa and pop the piece of chocolate in your mouth, “I was playing hide and seek with a friend of mine. I thought the back was a good place and it really is! It’s almost midnight and I’ll be free.”

“Free from what I may ask?”

You lean in your chair and let out a sigh, “My friend Vincent, he’s always won but this year I had to give up my whole month to him. But now since I’ll be winning, would you like to exchange numbers? I-I’d actually like to get to you know better and repay you for the hot chocolate…”

Looking up, you notice that Yuuto’s staring at you with a dazed expression, “Yuuto…?”

He looks down and begins to let out a low chuckle, “My my miss (Y/N), isn’t it quite cruel to not want to spend time with your friend but with a stranger?”

“Wh-What are you talking about” you ask, pushing yourself more into your chair. You watch as Yuuto stands up, but his head continues to hang low. His bangs casting a shadow over his face. Slowly, he walks over you as he slides a finger against the surface of the table.

“You know miss (Y/N) I find it strange that you can speak so casually to a stranger,” his hair begins to grow longer and fall along his shoulders, “and not be worried about being in a room alone with a male…” his smaller petite stature gradually changes and so does his clothes. Long white hair that fades down into a gradient of pink and a pitch black cloak that shadows over a white buttonup shirt and black pants. He’s now towering over you.

“And you never asked me for permission. It hurts my feelings you know? To be left all alone.”

You’re frozen in place as you’re staring straight up into Vincent’s vermillion eyes. A smirk is etched into his face as he looks down on you. The chime from the clock outside in the library echoes throughout the building, and your fate is sealed. Crouching down to make his face close to yours, he lifts your face with a gloved hand and kisses your lips.

Still frozen in place, you were processing what just happened. For the kind worker you thought was just a stranger actually knew you this whole time. The specific way the hot cocoa was made to how he had never even taken a sip of his drink were all hints. You had lost and you didn’t even realize it until now.

Moving close to your ear he whispers in a low husky voice, “Time’s up my beloved, and now you’re mine.”

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

[the sparrow with the bloody broken wing]

Day 10: Death #twdgdrabblechallenge

Note: I don’t know what it is but I have been super into writing jamitch lately and I will not apologize for it. Also, Mitch is SUCH a dingdong sometimes, I swear...

AO3

---

If Mitch had known that Aasim and James switched hunting schedules for today, he would’ve switched, too. 

However, he didn’t learn this until he was stuck waiting at the gates, bow in hand when James approached him. 

At first, he thought the guy was leaving to go do whatever he does in these woods, but then James stopped before him and asked if he was ready to go. 

It seems that Aasim ditched him to go help Ruby and Omar tidy up the kitchen. 

Figures. 

Now he’s stuck with James and his fucking walker-skinned face. 

It’s not exactly Mitch’s ideal hunting trip.

Not only have they not caught anything, but Mitch has almost stabbed his companion twice because of that stupid mask. He doesn’t care how awe-struck Willy is about it- and about James in general- it’s gross and realistic and looking at it now makes him anxious as if an actual walker is coming to eat his face and he doesn’t fucking like it. 

Luckily, James learned quickly to speak up every time Mitch turns around to face him. Plus, he’s incredibly quick and handles a knife fairly well himself.

Okay, fine, that’s an understatement. Credit where credit is due, the dude can wield two knives and take down walkers with impeccable speed and force without breaking a sweat. He saw that for himself when they got stuck in the shitty cave after they got separated from the others and found Tenn. 

James must’ve killed about twenty of them, at least, the fucking show-off. 

“Mitch?”

“Hm?” Mitch doesn’t spare a glance from his work on setting up another trap, assuming the oncoming footsteps belong to James as he tells himself not to freak out when he sees his face. 

“Uh-uhm-”

What the hell is that?

It’s a strange yet familiar noise, something high pitched but muffled. When Mitch cranks his neck up to look, he’s first greeted by James’ face. His actual face, the one he has when he’s not wearing a walker’s, and it’s twisted in concern with dark eyes concentrated on his cupped hands. 

Something yellow and sharp pokes out between his fingers, followed by a tuff of brown and black, beady eyes. 

What the- 

“I found him,” James explains. “He’s hurt.”

It’s a bird. A baby with barely any real feathers and a pissed-off expression that matches the squawks escaping its beak. There’s darkness caked to its side, still wet and smearing across James’ palm. From the looks of it, there’s something wrong with its wing. It’s broken or split open or something. 

Probably got cocky and fell out of its nest, like what most baby birds’ll do when Mama isn’t around.  

“Dude, put it down,” Mitch sighs. “It’s probably got some sort of disease or something.”

A disease? Alright, that was stupid to say. 

The dude wears walker skin. At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if James was immune to every disease known to man given that he’s spent the end of the world inhaling decayed flesh. That can’t be good for your health but maybe it built up his immune system somehow. 

James ignores him, still gazing down at the tiny bird cupped in his hands. Its chirp grows weaker but remains panicked as it pathetically tries to escape.  

“It’s okay,” James murmurs, lightly swiping his thumb over the bird’s head. It stops briefly before growing even louder, ruffling its feathers and shaking its wing. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Mitch pays it a glance, squinting to study the features on its petite face. 

Given the taupe color of feathers and bright yellow beak, his first guess is it’s a sparrow, but he’s not sure. Maybe he’d look it up in that old bird book he keeps in his desk if he remembers. He hasn’t touched that thing in years, not since Justin was alive. 

“He’s dying...” James whispers, pulling the bird closer to his chest, turning to him again, waiting, expecting him to say something. 

Mitch shrugs a shoulder. 

“It’s too little to eat.”

He’s joking but earns himself a glare anyway. 

“He’s a baby.”

“Yeah, and?”

James rolls his eyes. He actually just rolled his eyes at him. For a split second, a vision of himself slapping the bird out of James’ hands crosses his mind, but he doesn’t actually do it. That would absolutely kill the damn bird and that would end with him knocked flat on his ass.

The glare softens when the bird goes silent, body contracting with every breath as its eyes flutter shut. 

When James walks away, Mitch follows him to an unoccupied tree where he sits down beside it. 

“One of the traps got a rabbit over there,” James motions behind him. “Will you go take care of it, please?”

Mitch wants to scream at him and his pitiful face. 

“Fine.”

A full-grown rabbit struggles in the air, growing still upon Mitch’s approach. He doesn’t think about it, he just takes care of it because the others are counting on them to do their part and bring back something to eat. 

Kneeling down with the limp rabbit in his bag, Mitch rubs at his eyes and sighs. Glancing back at James, he can see him mumbling something to the bird- the fucking bird. 

The sparrow with a bloody, broken wing. The sparrow that’s going to die in James’ hands if he doesn’t just ditch it. Why he feels he needs to coddle it when it’s just- it’s just-

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He could just ditch him, leave James to do whatever and go back by himself and tell everyone the woods were dry. Then he could throw that bird book away and burn it.

Shit, that’s dramatic.

What’s wrong with him? He’s not going to burn his bird book, Justin gave that to him-

“Fuck.” 

The bird is dead when Mitch comes back. 

James isn’t crying, he isn’t speaking, and he isn’t doing anything but sitting there, holding it in his hands with an unreadable face. 

He wants to ask him if he’s okay, but that’s stupid. 

“I’m going to bury him.”

Is he fucking-

“It’s a bird,” Mitch means for the words to come out harsh, but cringes when they’re soft. “Why bother?”

“He deserves a place to rest.”

They’re silent, and the air is heavy.

“Go back to the school,” James murmurs, carefully placing the bird in front of him. Its eyes are still open. 

Fuck. 

Why is he even surprised? James is the same guy who still refers to walkers as people and feels remorse every time he’s forced to kill one. Of course, he’s hung up about a baby sparrow. 

A lifeless, limp, dead-eyed baby sparrow. 

“There’s a shovel in the shack,” Mitch sighs. “Stay here. I’ll go get it.” 

He doesn’t wait around for James to reply, whirling around, dropping his bag and jogging towards the river all while silently cursing himself. 

If he had known that he’d get stuck digging a grave and having a funeral for a baby sparrow with James- goddamn James- right by his side holding said sparrow. 

Once the small hole is dug right by the tree, James gently places the sparrow in, adjusting him so that he’s comfortable. Mitch almost chuckles. 

The sparrow’s dead, that’s all the comfort he needs. That’s what he wants to say, but seeing James crack a sullen smile stops him. 

Together, they lay the baby sparrow to rest. 

“Thank you,” James says, glancing towards him. “I appreciate it.” 

It’s on the tip of Mitch’s tongue, the offer to go back to the school and help him find that bird book, to read the pages about sparrows.

Mitch doesn’t say a thing. 

[hookedonapirate]

The Princess and Her Sultan

Summary: Crown princess Emma of Misthaven is second in line to the throne, her brother Leopold ll being the first, but her parents see her with a future as a great ruler. King Rumplestiltskin of neighboring land, strikes a deal with King David, promising to uphold the peace between the kingdoms if Emma marries Prince Baelfire. With the promise of his daughter becoming future queen of the Dark Kingdom, David accepts reluctantly.

Before her wedding day, the princess is kidnapped and taken overseas. She is sold as a slave to a palace where Crown Prince Killian of Neverland ascends his father’s throne and is sworn in as Sultan. Meanwhile, Killian’s mother pressures him to sire a prince and presents him with gifts for his birthday, one of them including a blonde princess from Misthaven. Dazzled by Emma’s charm, intelligence and beauty, he summons her to his bedchambers every night and eventually finds himself casting aside his harem and centuries of tradition.  

A/N: Thank you @ilovemesomekillianjones for your wonderful beta skills and @gingerchangeling for all of your suggestions and feedback! This story wouldn’t be the same without these lovely ladies!

Rated: Explicit

AO3 l FF.N I Prologue l Ch 1 Ch 2

Chapter 3

“Let me go, you spineless pigs!” screams a woman with fiery red, curly hair and a temper to match. She's forced to sit on the wooden floor below deck, her hands bound in front of her by rope, eyes full of fury as the two turbaned guards show her their scimitars in case she decides to grow violent again. There are two other women sitting to the right of her; both have been docile, but no less frightened, and therefore their hands are not tied.

 “These will be your companions for the trip to Neverland, and they will also be your roommates at the palace, so I suggest you become acquainted,” Nemo tells Emma before leaving them to chat among themselves.

 One of the females is very tall with a long, slender body, shimmering blue eyes and silvery blonde hair that's pulled into a lengthy braid laying over her shoulder as her arms are around a younger girl, who looks very frightened. She is curled up against the silvery blonde, her cheeks stained with tears as she rests her head on the other girl's shoulder. She has auburn hair and wears a braid on each side, her eyes are a light hazel color and she is at least a few years younger than the silvery blonde. Perhaps they are sisters? Emma thinks as she sits between the younger girl and the redhead.

 “I am Elsa.” The silvery blonde removes her hand from the other girl’s face and sticks it out to Emma.

 “Emma,” she murmurs softly, shaking Elsa's hand.

 “This is my sister, Anna.”

 Anna looks over at Emma and sits up a little, also shaking her hand.

 “It’s nice to meet you both, although I am sorry it’s under these circumstances.” She turns and looks to the other girl, who is now curled up into a ball, shocked to silence. “What’s your name?”

 The redhead is slow to look at her, but eventually, she regards Emma with a permanent frown on her tear stained face. “The name is Merida. I am a princess,” she grumbles, her bottom lip trembling. “I am not supposed to be here.”

 “I know what you mean, I am a princess as well,” Emma says; she’s just as angry and sad as Merida, but unlike her, Emma is able to subdue her emotions.

 “So, we are all princesses, is that why they took us?” Elsa asks no one in particular.

 Emma is not surprised as she turns her head to look at her.

 Elsa is staring vacantly at nothing in particular, distracted by her thoughts. “I was supposed to be the queen of Arendelle, and Anna was supposed to be married, but the Lost Boys invaded our kingdom and raided the cathedral during the wedding. They killed our parents and took us away.”

 Emma’s heart goes out to them. At least her family still lives; these two women are now orphans, even if they were to make it back home. “My deepest condolences to both of you.” She turns back to Merida. “What about you? How were you captured?”

 “I was betrothed to a man I didn’t want to marry.” Merida goes on to tell a long tale about how she was betrothed to one of her father’s allies and how she ran off into the woods where she was captured and imprisoned by an enemy of her father’s and then sold at an auction house.

 “What about you, Emma?” Elsa asks her curiously. “How did you get here?”

 Emma closes her eyes, trying to find the courage to tell her story, but in hindsight she should feel better than she does, knowing her family is still alive, unlike Elsa and her sister. “I was betrayed by one of my own men,” she finally says, opening her eyes. “He was a bodyguard charged to protect me and instead…” her voice cracks as she wills herself to continue, “instead he was an imposter who was hired by an evil countess to murder me.” A tear slips from Emma’s eye when the words leave her mouth.

 “This man… did you love him?” Elsa asks, and the words make Emma's heart hurt.

 She nods. “I loved him as a friend. I cared for him, and I thought he had felt the same about me.”

 “But he didn’t kill you. Perhaps he did love you and that is why he sent you away instead of murdering you?”

 “It matters not. He betrayed my trust. He lied to me, and now I will spend the rest of my life hating myself for ever leaving my heart unguarded.”

 Anna offers a small smile and takes Emma’s hand. “I can empathize your fear, believe me, but you should not let one man prevent you from trusting again. We are going to a terrible place where women kill for their master’s affections, but if we stick together and trust each other we can make it a more bearable and peaceful place.”

 Emma appreciates this young woman's optimism—Anna sounds much like Emma’s father, full of hope—but she’s reluctant. She doesn’t see this palace in Neverland as a place she will ever enjoy residing, no matter the company. “But if we submit ourselves to these Neverland pigs and comply with them and their customs, then don’t they win?”

 “Maybe so, but if we let the palace turn us against each other, then nothing good can come of it. We will show them they cannot break our spirits.”

 Emma nods, but she’s still pessimistic. The worst thing she can imagine is to submit to the Sultan, because what kind of man buys women like cattle just so he can have his pleasure when he demands and gain an heir out of it? He does not sound like a man at all. Only the scum of the earth and she will never give herself willingly to him.

 The four women ascend to the upper deck to watch as the ship pulls away from the harbor, and while the others gaze out over the open sea, Emma looks in the opposite direction, watching as her father’s ship from Misthaven becomes further and further away. A tear slides down her cheek as the hope of seeing her family again is washed up with waves of the sea.

 As the ship approaches Neverland, Nemo explains what’s expected of them. They must behave themselves and listen to their supervisor, Mother Superior. She is essentially a paid odalisque instead of a slave and oversees the women of the harem.

 When they arrive at the palace, they are forced to line up in the harem courtyard.

 “Stand in line, chins up, ladies.” A petite, dark-haired woman commands, whom Emma quickly learns is Mother Superior, and although her words carry a demanding tone, she seems kind.

 “See? It’s not so bad,” Elsa whispers to Emma as she stands next to her.

 “We have seen nothing yet,” Emma grumbles, a scowl on her face.

 The harem servants and eunuchs bow their heads when a woman enters the courtyard. Emma gets a look at her before bowing her head. Judging by her elaborate clothing—a dark, velvet gown with a pointed collar that stands upright on the back of her neck and opens in the front, and a crown set atop her head with ruby jewels—she is very powerful and wealthy, perhaps the Valide Sultan Nemo had mentioned. The woman walks up to each new concubine and gently lifts her chin, studying her features carefully.

 “You have done very well, Nemo. These women appear to be exquisite and lovely, just as I had asked.”

 “Thank you, Sultana. They are indeed.”

 “Take them to the baths and have the physician examine them,” she commands the eunuchs and starts to leave as they grab each of the four arrivals.

 Emma becomes enraged when they put their hands on her. “Do not touch me!” she shouts, struggling against them.

 This gains the Sultana’s attention and she whirls around, glaring at Emma. “You will do as you are told. You are Sultan Killian’s property now, and if you do not bow your head and obey, you will be punished.” She looks to the eunuchs holding her. “Take her away.”

 “I am nobody’s property! I will never submit to him!” Emma shouts as she is hauled from the courtyard along with the other three girls.

 The bathing area is constructed of grey-veined marble walls and a domed ceiling with high windows, allowing light to filter through. Here, the four women are stripped of their clothes and given a towel and a pair of pattens to wear on their feet while forced to endure a physical examination to make sure they are physically fit and presentable to the Sultan. The physicians check their eyes, inside their mouths and ears, examine their breasts and have them sit back, opening their legs to prod around their lady parts.

 It is the most degrading experience Emma has ever endured. Being ripped from her home, sold and hauled off to some barbaric empire ruled by men and forced to stay docile while being examined like cattle. Then the concubines are meant to serve their master and breed if they are lucky enough. Never in Emma’s life has she imagined being treated like this. She is a princess for heaven’s sake!

 And yet she briefly wonders if this is not better than the life she would've had with Baelfire. It is a bittersweet alternate perhaps.

 After the exams, the four gediklis move to an adjacent part of the bathing area, their pattens clip-clopping against the marble floor. There is a large fountain in the center of the room with water that has been heated in the massive boiler below, and the girls sit around it, scooping up the water in large copper basins and pouring it over their heads. Each of the four gediklis is attended by maids who scrub and bathe them before giving them manicures, pedicures and massages. One of Emma’s attendants is a slender, beautiful woman with long ebony hair and red lips, whom Emma learns has a very fitting name—Ruby.

 ~*~

 The silvery moon illuminates the inky blackness of the sky, it's light spilling over the terrace as Killian sits with James on an outdoor couch drinking forbidden wine and soaking up the stars that sparkle and glitter over the sea.

 The wound he'd sustained from his father's passing is still fresh, but if he's being honest with himself, Brennan was not a good man, or at least he hadn't left this world as one. He let power and wealth consume him, he let his position muffle his conscious. Killian swears to the gods above he will be better. He will be morally sound, demonstrate good ethics and wisdom, he will be kind and fair-minded, and not let his power and position change him into something unrecognizable when he looks in the mirror.

 “You see, James, our dreams are slowly coming to life. After all the war, death and raids we have reached this night.”

 James smiles and offers a nod. “The future will be a great one. You will be an excellent emperor, just as you have dreamt about.”

 “We shall see.” Killian takes a drink from his goblet of wine and looks at his friend who appears to be in deep contemplation. Though James seems happy, forcing a smile whenever he deems necessary, Killian can sense there is much to be desired for his friend in the palace. And he is not to be blamed. “My first order of business as Sultan is to have three wishes granted from you.”

 James looks at him compliantly and nods. “Of course.”

 “My first wish is for you to build a family. It’s long overdue.”

 “But, Your Majesty, I already have a family.”

 Killian cocks a brow at James, an amused grin dancing across his face. “You have a family you haven't told me about?”

 “No, I assure you, I do not,” James replies, his lips cracking into a small smile, “but you’ve once told me I was like a brother to you. Is that no longer true?”

 Killian saddens at the question, wondering why James would doubt him. “Of course it’s true. Which is why I hope to see you marry and have children.”

 James can see Killian is sincere with his words and nods softly. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

 “My next wish is for you to be the master of my privy chamber. I am appointing you concierge of the palace.”

 James regards Killian with wide eyes and a gaping jaw. Even though he seems to be in shock, he manages to stand from the sofa, and kneels before the Sultan, kissing the skirt of Killian’s robe. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

 Killian chuckles, patting James on the shoulder. “I will inform Gepetto to let it be known after I ask him to keep the emperor seal and remain Grand Vizier of Neverland.”

 James stands, bowing his head. “You have bestowed upon me a great honor. What is the third thing you wish for?”

 Killian responds by nodding to the guards, and they move to the doors of the terrace which leads to his chambers.

 James watches as they open the doors, a maiden emerging onto the terrace. She is beautiful, with long, ebony hair, white porcelain skin and ruby red lips. Killian stands and approaches her as she bows her head. When he’d first seen her he could not bear to look at her and had asked her to leave him, for she had reminded him too much of Milah. His heart was black and he was angry and sorrowful, building an iron cage around his heart. But now he can look at Ruby and appreciate her beauty from afar. “James, I would like you to accept one of my lovely maidens as a gift. Her name is Ruby.”

 James is stunned in his spot. For a Sultan to present another man with one of the odalisques of his harem is an extremely huge honor.

 “I can trust you will cherish and treat her with the utmost respect.”

 James nods, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he is able to speak again. “My apologies, I am at a loss for words.”

 “There is no need to say anything more. I only hope you will make one another happy.”

 James approaches her and kisses the back of her hand. Her lips are pulled into a grin, showing off her pearly white teeth as she allows him to lead her from the terrace. He says a thank you to the sultan before disappearing to his chambers with Ruby.

 Killian feels a sense of calmness knowing his friend will be happy with her, but he goes to his study, feeling the loneliness envelop him as he decides to play a game of chess against himself.

 But when he moves the first white pawn, he is flooded with the memories of Milah and how she used to wrap her arms around him from behind when he had sat at his chess table or at his desk trying to work. She used to distract him, always craving his attention. A tear slides down his cheek and he stands up after making his opening move, deciding to call it a night.

 Though his heart is slowly healing, he fears that without Milah, he will never be able to love again.

 ~*~

 Mother Superior escorts the four women to their living quarters explaining the harem hierarchy of the palace.

 “Odalisques are women of the court and are general servants assigned to the oda of a harem mistress. If they are considered extraordinarily beautiful, they are seen as potential concubines and are given the opportunity to prove themselves worthy enough through their training to become a concubine. You all have been chosen for a special purpose and are gediklis, maids-in-waiting. You have the privilege of being presented as gifts to the Sultan, per the request of the Valide Sultan.

 “If you are fortunate enough to be summoned by the Sultan, to walk the Golden Road which leads to his bedroom, and are taken to his bed at least once, you will become an ikbal. If you are successful in satisfying the sultan, you are considered a gozde, meaning favorite .” As they walk through the harem courtyard, Mother Superior gestures to a balcony of the second level which overlooks the harem, and the gediklis follow her gaze. “This is the Apartment of The Favorites. Currently, there are none, but we are hoping to change that, which is where the four of you come in. Perhaps the Sultan will choose one of you or all of you if he pleases. If you make him happy, this will be where you'll stay.”

 Emma cringes, having no desire to ever reside there.

 Mother Superior moves along quickly, and the others break from their thoughts and follow behind. “An ikbal who gives the sultan a child, either a girl or a boy, is considered a kadin, which is equivalent to a wife. The sultan is only allowed four kadins at a time and will be moved to a larger apartment when she has the child.”

 Emma looks over at the other three and they seem to feel as she does —a bit perplexed and overwhelmed by this lifestyle in the palace and everything their supervisor is explaining to them; it’s very different than where they are each from.

 “The mother of the Sultan’s heir is a bas-kadin and she is the most powerful of the concubines. When the Sultan dies, his bas-kadin takes the title Valide Sultan and holds the most power of the harem and is the most powerful woman of the empire. The woman you saw earlier is Kira, the Valide Sultan, and you must obey her every command. If you do not, the consequences will be grave, but if you do, your experience in the palace will be a pleasant one. Any questions so far?” Mother Superior asks, turning around when they reach a red, sheer curtain dividing their sleeping quarters.

 “How did you become a supervisor?” Elsa asks her curiously.

 “I entered as an odalisque and was promoted to Kalfa,” she answers. “It is my duty to oversee each of you, keep you in line and make sure you learn as you are supposed to so that you can one day be summoned by the Sultan. Any more questions?”

 “Yes,” Emma replies. “How does one escape this hell?”

 The others giggle, but Mother Superior glares at her sternly, causing the gediklis to silence themselves. “The only escape is death. If you chose to die you may try to escape. Otherwise, you may stay here and learn our customs, our music, our dances and most importantly, how to please you master. You will have four months of intensive training and then you will be presented to Sultan Killian on his twenty-fifth birthday.”

 “What do we do in our free time? Are we allowed to leave our quarters?” Anna asks her.

 “Yes, you may. Each one of you will be assigned a household task that must be performed daily, you will all be expected to learn embroidery, and you will have exercise periods and of course your studies. You are not prisoners here, your lives will be very fulfilled.”

 Emma scoffs. “We are not allowed to leave the palace. That makes us prisoners.”

 “You are not prisoners by the laws of the empire. You are the property of the Sultan and therefore you must live within the walls of the Jewel of the Realm. But you have a limited amount of freedom. Leaving the harem is forbidden, gossip is forbidden and men are forbidden.

 “If men are forbidden, then what about Nemo and the other men in uniforms?”

 “They are not men,” Mother superior answers.

 The four women all look at one another, confused. “They certainly look like men to me,” Anna says.

 “They are eunuchs who have been castrated, which makes them less than men.” Mother Superior makes a snipping motion with her index and middle finger.

 The four gediklis giggle.

 “I have one more question,” Emma says before Mother Superior leaves the room.

 She turns around, lifting a brow. “Yes?”

 “If only the most beautiful women are presented to the sultan, then why is Ruby not a concubine?”

 Mother Superior's eyes widen and she gently takes Emma's arm, pulling her on the other side of the curtain, away from prying ears. “You must not speak of such things. The Sultan has his reasons, and it is not your concern.”

 Feigning embarrassment, Emma joins her hands in front of her, peering down at her feet. “My apologies, I was only trying to figure out this hierarchy of the harem, that is all. One can not gain further knowledge without asking the right questions.”

 Mother Superior sighs defeatedly. “Very well, if you must know for further understanding, Ruby entered the old palace as Killian's bath maid when he was a prince, but upon seeing her, he demanded another attendant. He said she looked too much like Milah.”

 “Who's Milah?”

 “That is all I can say, my child, I have already said too much.” She starts to usher Emma back to her bed, but Emma pulls back.

 “Was she a concubine?”

 Mother Superior looks around to make sure there is no one listening. “You cannot speak of this to anyone, you must promise.”

 Emma nods. “I promise.”

 Mother Superior moves closer, speaking in almost a whisper. “She wasn't just any concubine, our prince at the time was in love with her. She was his gozde, his favorite, and supposed to be his kadin, as she was pregnant with his child.”

 “What happened to her?”

 “Her life was taken by a jealous concubine. Milah and her unborn child were poisoned with a medicine meant to cure anxiety. A lethal dose of it was sprinkled into her food by one of her maids after it was tested by the prince’s tasters and delivered to her apartment. Milah unknowingly consumed the poison before she went to sleep and it ruptured her heart.”

 Emma’s mouth falls open slightly and fear consumes her. If that could happen to the Sultan’s favorite, then what could happen to her and the others when they are presented to him? “That’s awful.”

 “You must not worry, my child. After the incident, Killian has established a strict policy that all kadins of his harem will never have the same attendant for very long to avoid forming a friendship that will eventually turn into partisanship. The maid who poisoned Milah was a very close friend of a former favorite, whose status became irrelevant when Milah entered the harem and quickly became the prince’s one and only. All of the maids in waiting were jealous when he only summoned Milah and no one else. So the ikbal rebelled and decided to take fate into her own hands.”

 “That is a foolish policy,” Emma scoffs. “If friendships are avoided, will it not be easier for one to hate another and act out? Jealousy and hatred flourish in environments when there are no friendships, no understanding or empathy of one another. It is much easier to hate a stranger than a friend, is it not?”

 “I suppose you are right, but it matters not. It is what the Sultan has decreed and therefore it cannot be changed. Now you must go to your bed and get your rest. A long day awaits you.” Mother Superior leaves the girls, closing the curtain behind her.

 Emma seethes with anger as she returns to the others and changes into her nightgown. Women are murdering each other just so they can give their master an heir, and for what? So they can be tossed aside after the pregnancy while the Sultan moves on to the next maiden? It’s incredibly absurd!

 “What did she say?” Elsa asks Emma as the silvery blonde takes a brush through her unbraided hair.

 “Nothing, she only told me to behave and not make such foolish inquiries.” Emma shakes off Elsa’s question with a fib to avoid the temptation of divulging what Mother Superior had just told her. She looks between Elsa, Merida and Anna as they get ready for sleep, thinking of their earlier words on the ship. “I want the four of us to make a promise.”

 “What kind of promise?” Anna asks as she and Merida pause from their tasks of preparing the bedding on their mattresses and walk over, the four of them gathering around.

 “We shall make a promise right now to never let our new fate tear us apart. We shall promise to remain friends, no matter what happens,” Emma says, glancing between the three girls. “This way the Sultan will never be able to get in between us. Do all of you agree?”

 They nod. “Of course.”

 “Good,” Emma grins, knowing that she will not let this Sultan win, no matter what. She will not let him control her, nor her new friends. “Now let us get some sleep, ladies.”

 Emma slips into bed, clutching onto the necklace Leo had given her, and she prays for her family, hoping they are well. Her parents are undoubtedly stricken with grief at the loss of their daughter, but she knows her brother is strong enough to help them through it.

 ~*~

 “Where are you going?” James pouts as Ruby slips out of bed and starts dressing.

 She smiles, her cheeks still flushed with a lovely shade of pink as she leans over and kisses his lips. “I have a very early day tomorrow. I have been assigned a new gedikli and must attend to her before her training. Nemo has brought four gifts for the sultan to be presented for his birthday.”

 “Ah, I see.”

 “And you might be interested to know she’s from Misthaven.”

 James lifts a brow and sits up, his interest highly peaked indeed. “From Misthaven?”

 “Yes, a princess. Her name is Emma. Perhaps you know her?”

 James shakes his head. “Unlikely. As young as the maidens typically are when they enter the harem, she would not have been born yet when I was taken. I was only eight”

 “You are correct, she is quite young, not yet eighteen years old.” Fully dressed, Ruby starts to leave, heading for the door.

 “Wait, can I see you again?”

 Ruby turns around, her brilliant grin assenting. There's a twinkle in her eye as she offers a wink before prancing out the door without saying another word.

 He will definitely see her again.

 ~*~

 The next day, schooling begins and the gediklis are immersed with the knowledge of the traditions, history, manners and morals of the Neverland inhabitants. Emma is bright and a very quick learner, so it doesn’t take very much time for her to catch on. She also studies music, dance and the erotic arts. An important part of her role in the Harem is to please the Sultan, whom everyone says is her owner. Who is this man and why does he need to buy slave girls to get them to his bed? He must be old, fat and ugly, Emma conjectures.

 The girls must also learn other languages, and while Emma is already fluent in several different tongues, the others are not, so she tutors them. And since she is not as good at dancing as Elsa and Anna are, she learns from them and studies hard so she can dance as well as them. Emma does everything she is told and learns all that she can so she can pretend to adapt while finding a way for her and her new friends to escape the palace.

 In her free time, she decides to test the limits of where she can actually go. Mother Superior had told her the Golden Road is only for those concubines who are fortunate enough to be summoned by the Sultan, but she shall see about that. If she is to be a prisoner in the Jewel of the Realm, no one will tell her where she can or cannot go.

 She sneaks off, leaving the harem and wandering through the palace, noticing there are no guards on duty. So much for the palace being heavily guarded, Emma scoffs and continues down a vaulted road with plastered walls and stone pavement.

 It’s not until she hears voices when she ducks into a nearby room. She isn't allowed the chance to shut the door before some guards pass by, so she hides behind it, leaving it cracked open. When she’s certain they’re gone, Emma looks around the room, taking in her surroundings. The walls are covered in rich textiles and hung with cabinet paintings, and there are many incunables and works of art. Among all of the personal belongings of which Emma assumes are the Sultan’s, her eyes are drawn to the middle of the room where there is a chess board table.

 Her eyes light up as she makes her way over. All of the chess pieces are in their proper starting positions, apart from the white pawn which is placed in the center of the board as though someone had started to play but had been interrupted. This move not only claims control of the center, but it liberates White’s light-squared bishop as well as the White Queen. It is a smart move indeed. Emma bites her bottom lip and decides how to retaliate. While White gets the opening move, Black only gains the advantage after equalizing the position and eroding White’s opening position. With a carefully measured plan of where she shall go next, she makes a move that equalizes her position with the white.

 “Excuse me, you are not allowed to be in here.”

 Her head snaps up, her hand flying off the black pawn.

 Is that— No, it couldn't be. Or could it?

 Her eyes start to well up with tears, for the sound of his voice is unmistakable. The same voice she has known since she was a baby. The voice that had once sang her sweet lullabies and filled her head with stories when she was a child. A big smile blossoms across her face, she's relieved her father has found her and will bring her home from this hell. Or is she only imagining this voice?

 Her question is answered when she turns around. Or so she thinks.

 ~*~

 James is still smiling after his night with Ruby when he sees the door to Killian's study cracked open and enters the room to investigate. There is a maiden with long golden hair at the chess table toying with the Sultan's game. She must be new in the palace if she thinks she can leave the harem and enter the Sultan's study.

 “Excuse me, you are not allowed to be in here.”

 She jumps, startled by his words and spins around. When he sees her face, his heart stops. She is one of the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes upon and her smile makes him melt. Who is she and why has he never seen her before? Has the Sultan taken her to his bed?

 “Father?”

 He stands frozen as she says the one word that could cool the lust he had felt from merely gazing upon her. “Father?” he parrots, furrowing his brows in confusion. His mind is reeling as he tries to determine whether or not she is expelling truths. Could he have a daughter he does not know about? She looks to be about seventeen or eighteen and he certainly was not a virgin that many years ago. “Wandering into the Sultan’s cabinet and mistaking me for someone else, you must be delusional. We must get you back to the harem before anyone finds out you are missing.” He strides over and gently grabs her arm, attempting to usher her out of the room when he sees behind her that she has retaliated to the opening move Killian had made earlier. He will be furious if he finds out. James can’t help but feel impressed though, for Emma is a clever one to have made that move.

 ~*~

 Emma doesn't budge, too focused on the spitting image of her father. When he turns his head away from her, she notices the scar on his left cheek. A scar her father did not have. With his grip still on her arm, Emma lifts her hand, her thumb gently tracing the line of his scar. He shudders under her touch, and he places his hand over hers to stop her, his eyes full of pain as she reminds him of his past.

 “Uncle James?” she murmurs, her eyes wide with shock.

 “How do you know my name? And why do you refer to me as such?”

 “You are my father’s brother. He… he thought you were dead. We all did.”

 The man’s eyes widen as he studies Emma’s face. “You are… you are David’s daughter?”

 Emma nods, a smile making its way across her lips. “I am.”

 James draws out a breath and pulls her into a hug, much to her surprise. “I am relieved. For a second I thought I had a child I did not know about,” he laughs.

 Emma sighs contentedly as she rests her head on his shoulder, feeling safe and secure in the arms of the man who has all the same physical qualities as her father. “My apologies. I just… I was taken away from him, from my family and taken here.”

 James pulls away, his features clouding with apology. “I am sorry...”

 “It’s Emma.”

 The name sounds familiar, and then he remembers Ruby mentioning her. “Ah, yes you are the princess from Misthaven.” James puts the pieces together when he recalls everything Ruby had told him. “Wait. David is king?”

 Emma nods. “Yes, my father was adopted by King George and ascended the throne when he died.”

 “Wait, you mean, I could’ve —I could’ve been a king?” he asks, anger lacing his words.

 “Perhaps, but that is neither here nor there. You are alive and well and everything will be fine.” Emma's eyes light up in excitement. “We can both escape and go back to Misthaven.”

 “I am sorry, Emma, but we cannot leave.”

 Her features fall in confusion. “And why not?”

 “Because you will be killed if you try and I will be killed for helping you escape. Even if we do succeed, the guards will come after us and we will be killed then. Besides, this is my home. I do not wish to leave.”

 Emma is completely appalled and baffled by this. “But you are a slave, how can want to stay here?”

 “I came to Neverland as one, but I am a slave no longer. I am the concierge of my Master’s palace. He is my friend, my family.”

 “But you have a family… in Misthaven.”

 “Who? A brother I have not seen in thirty years? Our parents are dead and I know nothing of David's life or yours, so how can I call Misthaven my home?”

 “Because he still loves you no matter how much time has passed. And I have always wished I could’ve met you.”

 “But I didn't even know you existed.”

 “Well, you do now. We can be a family again,” Emma pleads with him, hoping she can change his mind. Surely life in Misthaven will be vastly better than his life here in Neverland as a servant to the Sultan.

 “Emma, don't you understand, we can not leave this palace. This is your fate now, and the sooner you accept that, the happier you will be.”

 “But I will never be happy here,” she snaps, growing angry.

 “You will, Emma. You were chosen for a special reason.”

 Emma rolls her eyes in irritation. “I would hardly call birthing the Sultan’s prince so I can then be tossed aside while he takes another wife, a special reason.”

 James doesn’t reply for a minute, perhaps he knows she is right. She can almost see the gears turning in his head. “What if I told you, I can help you change that?”

 Her eyebrows furrow together, displaying her confusion.

 “I can help you get in his good graces.”

 She scoffs in amusement. “I do not wish to be in his good graces, and even if I did, I do not need your help.”

 “I’m aware. I’m not saying you couldn’t woo the sultan on your own. I can tell you possess all of the qualities he will adore.”

 “Then what is it you are trying to say, Uncle James?”

 He raises a finger to his mouth, shushing her as he looks behind him and shuts the door. “Let me ask you something, were you David's heir?”

 “I am second in line. My younger brother is first.”

 “So, your brother will be king, and if you weren’t taken from Mistahaven, you would've been a spare to the throne?”

 “I was to be the queen of the Dark Kingdom,” Emma replies defensively. “I was betrothed to Rumplestiltskin's heir.” She tries to seem proud of her statement, but she knows she's not fooling him.

 “And that is what you wanted?” he asks skeptically.

 “Of course,” Emma huffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

 James raises a brow, not believing her.

 “I would not feed you lies,” she claims while looking away from him to avoid eye contact. Even though she can’t see him, she can feel the heat of his stare burning her skin; she knows he isn’t buying her words. Not that it matters, for even if given the chance to return home, she would never again agree to a marriage with Baelfire.

 Emma caves with a sigh. “No,” she mumbles quietly, reverting her gaze to James as she drops her arms to her sides. “The betrothal was forced; my fiance was a defiling swine.”

 James nods gravely, regarding her with a thoughtful expression. “Well, perhaps being the queen of Misthaven or the Dark Kingdom was never your destiny, but what if you are destined to be the queen of Neverland?”

 Emma eyeballs him suspiciously. “But there is no such opportunity here.”

 “You are right. There currently is not, but you can change that.”

 Emma cocks a brow and crosses her arms again, itching to hear more. “Go on.”

 “If you can bear the Sultan’s heir, you will become bas-kadin, but if you can continue to keep his favor and give birth to several princes, you will rule the empire. No other concubine will be able to touch you. Not even the Valide Sultan.”

 Emma’s eyes widen, her mind reeling at the possibilities. If what he is blabbering about is feasible, she could be the ruler she's always dreamt of being and she can change the empire and their barbaric customs. “Really?”

 “Really.”

 “And you will help me with that?”

 “Who knows the Sultan more than I do?”

 “I was not questioning your capabilities, I was questioning your willingness. What exactly would be in this for you?” she asks suspiciously.

 James looks offended. “You are my niece, why must I need a reason?”

 She studies him cautiously. “If this is a trick, I am in no mood. I have already been deceived and that is how I ended up here.”

 “Emma, I have no reason to deceive you. In fact, I am risking my life by helping you. If people even find out you are my niece, I will be banished from the palace to avoid partisanship. The Sultan is the only one allowed to show favoritism toward any of his concubines.”

 “I've gathered that much,” Emma rolls her eyes.

 “Then you know how important it is that no one find out about this?”

 She nods her compliance. Her friendship with James appears to be a promising one, and if all goes according to plan, it will only be a matter of time before she turns the tables and makes the Sultan hers. She will make him bow at her feet and submit to her every whim.

 With this knowledge, she leaves the room and returns to the harem with a devious smile on her face.

 Yes, she will make Sultan Killian her slave, and soon all of Neverland will be hers.

 ~*~

 Later that day, Killian and James return from the Audience Chamber where Killian had conducted interviews with his army officers of high rank, learning that his father had left behind a large navy before he had passed. His mind is reeling with the decisions he will make at his first council meeting the next day as he goes to his study to continue the chess game he had started. He enters the room, James following behind him, and approaches the chess board, stopping abruptly when he sees the black pawn has been moved. He frowns, his eyebrows wrinkling in confusion.

 Perhaps James had seen the game Killian had started to play and decided to act as his opponent, although James would never open with this move. It is a risky one as opposed to something simple and safe—the complete opposite of how his concierge always played his hand.

 Someone else must have done it.  

 “Who has been in my room?”

 He turns to look at James who shrugs as he stands next to Killian and examines the chess table. “I’m not sure, Your Majesty. But whoever this person is, has certainly proved themselves to be clever because they have already equaled your position.” James laughs, but Killian is not amused. Instead, he looks angered.

 “You are responsible for all that takes place in the palace, I want you to find out who is entering my private room without my permission.”

 “And what shall their punishment be?”

 “Just bring them to me.”

 “Of course, Your Majesty.”

 James begins to move about the room as Killian continues to consider the intriguing and daring move of his mystery opponent. Pursing his lips in careful contemplation, he makes his next move on the chess board.

 Part of him wants to punish whoever is wandering into his study without his permission, but another part of him is curious as to how this person who dares to challenge him would retaliate if given the chance.

 He looks up at James and fingers the chess piece, “On second thought, tell the guards if they see someone enter again, they are to let them in.”

 James turns to face Killian with an odd look on his face. “Even if this person is one of the harem women?”

 Killian raises an eyebrow at James and asks sharply, “Do you think it is?”

 James affects an air of blase indifference, answering Killian’s hard question with a shrug, “Perhaps a maiden who is new to the palace? No one else would be so  daring.”

 Killian reflects on his friend’s words for a moment. Is it possible a woman from his harem is disobeying the rules and sneaking into his room to play chess? The thought entices him more than he’s willing to admit to himself.

 “Well then, if it’s a game she wishes to play, I will show her how to win.”

@teamhook @onceuponaprincessworld @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecurious @snowbellewells @artistic-writer @ultraluckycatnd @kmomof4 @darkcolinodonorgasm @lovepurplepumpkins @kiwistreetswan @therooksshiningknight @deathbycaptainswan @tiganasummertree @superchocovian @emeraldwitches

[styomi]

Fifteen study dates | 15-day prompt challenge | Sweet Pea/OC | Day 8

AN: Well, this was a fun one to write! I think that these two may be a little bit OOC, but, I figure that they would have their own dynamic after a while :D Enjoy!

Info:

Fandom: Riverdale Pairing: Sweet Pea/OC Rating: T Word count: 2035 Chapter count: 8/15

                     Take me anywhere, everywhere, away from here

“Please,” Sweet Pea gasped out, flat on his back. “Please, Ruby.” His voice was strained and he looked to be in physical pain. “No more.”

“Just a little longer.” The girl shot back from her seat at her desk. The tall biker groaned, rising from her bed and glaring at her back.

“No more or my brain will explode,” he said in a warning tone. They had been in her room for hours. Sweet Pea understood that finals were important. He got the fact that Ruby wanted to pass with excellent grades. He was also fully on board with him taking junior year material with her. However, enough was enough. Over six hours without a single break except for the bathroom or more snacks were killing him. He needed to get out of the damned room he’d been so eager to get into. He’d even stopped obsessing over the fact that he was sprawled on her bed, quite invitingly. After all, Ruby was too focused on memorizing biology terms and definitions to notice the temptation. Or, she wasn’t interested. Sweet Pea chose not to go down that road. “Let’s go downstairs and play with Chili for a bit. Half an hour,” She shot a glare over her shoulder, muttering a definition. “Okay, ten minutes. Please, Ruby, for God’s sake!”

“Oh my God, would you let me finish this already!” She yelled then, before swiveling her chair around and closer to her table, her back to him. “I need five more minutes and then we can do something else for a bit.” Sweet Pea groaned and let himself fall back on the bed, knowing that it wouldn’t be five minutes.

Ruby didn’t mess around when it came to studying. Unfortunately for him, that meant that he was forced into being cooped up with her stressed out self for the whole day in her room, hearing her mutter and repeat or helping her revise by quizzing her. Sweet Pea didn’t know half of the material she’d already memorized, but that didn’t bother him. They still had a week or so before the exam. He had time. Ruby, though, thought that she needed to know everything then and there.

Sweet Pea checked his phone, seeing that only two minutes had passed since Ruby’s latest promise. He made himself busy, scrolling through his social media and then finally closing his eyes, deciding to get some shuteye if nothing else. He wasn’t sure if he’d managed to fall asleep or not. Sweet Pea was shaken from his wandering thoughts and peaceful position when he felt a weight on his midsection. His eyes opened to find Ruby’s face above him.

“I’m done for now.” She promised, smiling softly down at him. But, she looked worse for wear. Her long hair was in a really messy bun on the top of her head and her eyes had dark circles underneath them from the lack of sleep. She seemed beyond tired to him.

“Good,” Sweet Pea sighed out. “Come here.” His arms opened invitingly and Ruby dropped down from her previous spot, still straddling his midsection. Her head fell under his chin, just a bit to the side, how she loved it. The faint scent of her conditioner wafted from her hair, reminding Sweet Pea of the time she’d slept next to him in that very same bed just a few days ago, passed out from exhaustion. Ruby Wolfe was a beast when it came to finals. A demon straight from hell. But, Sweet Pea wasn’t afraid of demons. He embraced her small frame gently and trailed his fingers up and down her back, making her hum in pure bliss.

“I’m sorry I’m such a pain.” Ruby sighed into his neck, making gooseflesh break out all over his skin. Sweet Pea suddenly felt very warm.

“You’re not,” he assured her. “You just need a small break, shortcake.” Ruby’s head rose, leaving his neck feeling all too cold despite the warm weather.

“What do you have in mind?” There was the Ruby he knew well and loved dearly. A girl always looking for an adventure with childish glee, never minding the Serpent symbol on his neck or back. Sweet Pea grinned.

“Just a little something,” and he pushed himself up, moving the girl to have her sit on the bed, where she just flopped over like a ragdoll. He shook his head before going over to her wardrobe. “Here,” Sweet Pea took a bit of time finding where her shirts and pants were, using his iron will not to stay too long in her underwear drawer because she was in no state to protest. He grabbed the first pair of jeans he saw and a shirt he’d seen her wear a number of times. That meant she liked it. Good. “Get these on.” The clothes hit the space next to the girl, making her look up tiredly.

“No, Sweet Pea, I don’t want to function like a proper human being!” She complained. “Let me lie here for the rest of the day.” While there was certainly something about her in her baby doll PJs sprawled over her bed, Sweet Pea wouldn’t take no for an answer then. He already had a plan and he was intent on making it a reality.

“C’mon,” the biker pulled the petite girl’s limp body up into a seated position with little trouble. “Hands up like at a rave.” Ruby obliged, her arms rising over her head in a sluggish motion.

“I’ve never been to a rave.” She confessed as he slid the top of her pajamas up and over her head, leaving her in a sports bra. Ruby didn’t even move to cover herself, which only confirmed Sweet Pea’s suspicions of her being beyond tired.

“I’m sure that Toni and Fangs will be happy to take you to one.” He helped her slip on the shirt with only a small fumble to get her arms into the proper holes.

“You don’t want to take me?” She was smirking up at him from her seat. Sweet Pea knelt in front of her, tucking his thumbs into the waistline of her PJ bottoms.

“Maybe. It’s not really my scene.” Ruby rose a bit to let him slide the clothing off before he helped her into the jeans he’d found.

“Why do I get the feeling you only go to rock concerts?” She swatted his hands away when the jeans got to her thighs in a clear sign of recovery. Sweet Pea pulled the girl up to stand and watched her shimmy the pants the rest of the way up, buttoning them.

“Your feeling is wrong.” He didn’t offer anything else. Telling her that she’d hooked him onto some of the catchier rap artists wasn’t a secret he was willing to share yet. Sweet Pea offered the girl his hand and she took it immediately, their fingers interlocking. He led her down the stairs, stopping only for a second for the both of them to slip some shoes on, and then they were gone.

Sweet Pea knew that Ruby liked riding behind him on his bike. He had noticed the way she’d stopped being reluctant to get on it over time. He had also realized that she asked him to let her drive them around in her Mustang less and less. By the way she grabbed the spare helmet without hesitation and held onto his waist loosely, he knew that she liked the ride more than she was willing to let on. That day was no exception.

As Sweet Pea drove to a place Ruby wasn’t familiar with, she let go of his back, making him throw his arm behind to hold her instantly. She patted his shoulders in reassurance before he saw her throw her arms up in the air, head back and stray hairs whipping around wildly. Sweet Pea couldn’t stop glancing at her reflection in the mirror, the smile on her face positively huge and infectious. Ruby was the kind of girl who enjoyed riding on the back of a Serpents’ motorcycle with her arms up and head back, whooping with joy. And, it was positively infectious. Sweet Pea couldn’t resist teasing her a bit. He hit the breaks lightly, making her slam into his hard body, before revving the bike and speeding up. Then, her giggle of joy was directly in his ear as her arms hugged him around his neck tightly. She was standing, the boy realized. The crazy girl was actually standing behind him on the bike, straddling it. They both ignored the numerous odd looks they got from the Northside residents as they whooshed through the streets and onto the highway.

Sweet Pea didn’t stop until he got to one of his favorite spots. It was a ride which took them on the highway, a little out of town, and down a road lined with non-deciduous trees. Finally, after a little over thirty minutes, he took a left and parked his bike on a small rest stop at the side of the road. Without many cars on the highway, it was quite peaceful out there.

“We’re here.” Sweet Pea told his companion, offering his hand to help her get off the motorcycle. Ruby eagerly took her helmet off, leaving it beside his on the bike and letting the tall teen take her towards the edge. There was a single bench there, overlooking the scenery in front of them. The whole town of Riverdale could be seen underneath, houses huddled together on the Northside and old buildings rising up on the Southside.

“Will you believe me if I say that I’ve already been here?” Ruby asked, plopping down on the bench. Sweet Pea joined her, his arm swinging around her shoulders and bringing her closer to him almost instinctively.

“You can’t pop my bubble like that and leave me with no context, munchkin.” He spoke in a rumble. But, they both knew that it was just a teasing jab, instead of his usual disgruntled comments. So, Ruby launched into a story of how she’d picked up her best friend, Mattie, from the airport and they’d stopped at that particular spot to eat some food, sit on the hood of her car and sing along to some ridiculous pop songs which came on the radio. Sweet Pea instantly demanded that they take her car next time, in order to sit on the hood like that together and Ruby agreed, giggling.

Evening came before either of them noticed. With their cell phones left under the seat of his bike, they had ignored all the texts and calls, enjoying the peace of sitting under the warm sun rays which came in between the treetops instead. As Sweet Pea got ready to take Ruby back home, probably for some more stressing about finals, he realized that they hadn’t exchanged a single kiss during their time there and that he hadn’t minded one bit. In fact, he felt closer to Ruby than he had in months.

“Hey,” Sweet Pea stopped the girl before she could take the helmet and get on the bike to go back home. She turned, a questioning expression on her face. Sweet Pea reached behind her head to the small hairband which held her bun and pulled it. Dark brown, slightly wavy, locks spilled from the top of her head, cascading over her shoulders and down her back. They were a mess, sticking up in odd angles and creating a curtain of soft, conditioner smelling chocolate. But, even when she tried to tame down the parts which had twisted awkwardly, she looked beautiful to him. Sweet Pea leaned down and kissed her lips quickly, only for him, and pulled away before she could return the affection. “Your hair definitely looks better when it’s down.” He told her before grabbing his own helmet as if they hadn’t just had a moment.

“Oh, you gigantor of a dork.” Ruby grabbed his forearms and pushed herself up to engage in a slightly longer kiss before they headed back home. Needless to say, Jo wasn’t happy about his daughter getting dropped off by a biker after hours of ignoring his calls.

That’s all for now folks!

The taglist is still open: @enticinghell

Here are the previous parts:

Day 1: A way to memorize Day 2: How to prepare for a study date (?) like a proper gentleman Day 3:  With proper motivation, anything is possible Day 4:  PG13 PDA sugar can be good motivation Day 5: Autumn time is picnic time Day 6: It’s best when we can compete Day 7:  Master of procrastination and his jailer   Day 9:  Dirty French for beginners   Day 10:  I need… sleep?… no, you…   Day 11:  Delirium   Day 12: Stay still for me   Day 13:  Debate? Apparently, a turn-on   Day 14: Two-seater and Chinese   Day 15:  Unintentional intentions  

Let me know how you like it and if you’d enjoy reading something longer about these two :D

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Warm Bodies

Summary: Somewhat inspired by @emospritelet‘s Neverland/Pixie Dust verses and an extension of my own escort!Belle verse.

Nicholas Rush has not been able to sleep well since the death of his wife two years ago. The bed just feels too big and cold without her. In a last ditch attempt to have a proper night’s sleep, he hires an escort to share his bed and give him a warm body to hold through the night.

Belle French is that escort…

Rated: M - no smut, but adult themes.

Previous escort!Belle fics can be found here and here and here and here. This fic takes place prior to Belle’s first encounter with Gold, or can stand alone.

=========

Warm Bodies

The phone seemed to be ringing for a very, very long time and Rush was beginning to think that no-one was going to pick up. Perhaps it was an omen, telling him that this was a stupid idea and he should never even have considered it.

He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose against the rapidly oncoming tension headache caused by too much caffeine and too little sleep. He’d always been a light sleeper and he could get by on very little sleep, but this was just getting ridiculous. He couldn’t go on like this much longer. He’d managed, sitting on that edge, for a long time, for two years in fact, but he’d finally had to admit that he’d reached his tipping point. It couldn’t go on.

When the phone was finally answered by a somewhat breathless voice, as if the person on the other end had just run up three flights of stairs to get to the phone, it startled him a little.

“Dragon Escort Services, Cara speaking. How may I help you today?”

Rush took a deep breath. “I’d like to book an escort please, for tomorrow night if possible.”

“Certainly, I’ll see who we have available. Are you looking for a male or female companion?”

“Female, please.”

“All right. Do you have any of our escorts in mind?” the voice asked, calm and patient.

“No…” Rush cringed. “This is the first time I’ve done this.”

“That’s not a problem. Do you have any characteristics that you would particularly like? Personality or looks? I’d just like to try and match your preferences as closely as possible.”

“Just… not blonde,” Rush said. If he was going to do this, then he didn’t want to be reminded of Gloria at any point.

“Not a problem. We do have a suitable lady available tomorrow evening; her name is Lacey. Would you like me to tell you a little more about her?”

“Please.”

“She’s brunette with blue eyes, in her late twenties, very petite. She’s been with us for a few years now and is one of our most praised ladies; she’s very sweet-natured, well-read and highly intelligent, so you won’t be wanting for conversation topics depending on where you would like your appointment to go.”

Rush nodded slowly. “She sounds good, thank you.” He paused. “I… I wasn’t intending there to be any…”

“Intimacy?” the woman on the other end of the phone suggested.

“Yes. No. Well, yes, sort of…” Did bed-sharing count as intimacy? “I’m not looking for sex, but there might be… intimacy.” Rush suppressed a groan; he was making a right pig’s ear of this.

“Don’t worry sir. You are paying for time, not for services. What you do in that time is entirely up to you. Like I said, Lacey is an excellent conversation partner.”

“Yes. Thank you. Can I book her please?”

“Certainly. How long would you like the appointment to be? I can give you a breakdown of our prices.”

Rush listened as Cara told him how the pricing worked, but he already knew how long he wanted.

“I’d like a full twelve hours, please, an overnight stay. Eight till eight?”

“That’s absolutely fine. Can I take a name please?”

“Nicholas Rush.” Dammit, he should probably have used a pseudonym, but it was too late now.

“All right, Mr Rush, you’re booked in. Where is the appointment taking place?”

Rush gave her his address. He knew he’d never be able to get to sleep in an unfamiliar bed, however strange it might be to have an unfamiliar woman in his own.

Cara took him through the motions of payment, and then it was all over. Lacey would be coming to him at eight o’clock the next evening. That would give him a couple of hours to get used to her before it was time to go to sleep.

He hadn’t slept properly since Gloria’s passing, and he had finally come to the begrudging conclusion that it was the lack of a second person in the bed beside him that was causing his restlessness. They had shared a bed for over twenty years. The only time they’d slept apart had been when Nick was at conferences, which didn’t count because the beds were uncomfortable and unfamiliar, and when Gloria had been in the hospital, which didn’t count because then he couldn’t sleep for worrying about her.

A part of him hated himself for resorting to this, paying for overnight company just so that he could get some sleep with a warm body to cling to through the night, but in the end, as he had to keep reminding himself, Gloria wasn’t coming back. She wasn’t ever going to be there for him to hold again. He knew that if he could talk to Gloria right now, call her up on the afterlife hotline – not that he was entirely sure there was an afterlife at all, but the thought gave him some measure of comfort – then she would back him up and tell him that he was doing the right thing and that if this was what it took to stop him running on empty, then this was what he should do. He had held her close for the last time, and as much as he hated to feel like he was marring the memory of their relationship by inviting another woman into their marital bed, he really, really needed to sleep, and to get to sleep he needed someone to hold.

Well, at least, he thought he did. Whether his appointment with Lacey would prove fruitful or not remained to be seen. A small part of him was considering calling the agency straight back and telling them that it had all be a terrible mistake and cancelling the booking, continuing to struggle along with his insomnia as best he could.

He took a deep breath. He could do this.

X

Although for obvious reasons, the escort agency’s details were not programmed into her phone, Belle recognised the number immediately and answered, shoving it under her ear and continuing to type up her latest lab results. That number would always be Cara Mallory calling her from Dragon.

“Hi Mal.”

“Hello Belle, love. I’ve got an assignment for you for tomorrow night.”

Belle grimaced at her laptop screen; although she’d said she’d work the next night she’d been hoping to have it off in order to get up to date with this latest part of her thesis for Gold’s review; she was on the verge of running behind having worked three nights already that week.

“It’s an overnight,” Mal added, and Belle screwed her face up even more. If she had an overnight, then she’d be good for nothing the next day, and Sunday would be spent playing catch up. She wouldn’t be able to take any appointments next week at all if she wanted her latest appraisal data handed in on time. Gold wasn’t as strict with his PhD students as he was with his under- and post-grads, but the longer she took to complete this doctorate, the longer she had to keep working to pay her way. It was a Catch 22.

“Ok,” she said, replying with a brightness that she didn’t feel and that she knew Mal would notice was false. “Who and when and where?”

“His name is Nicholas Rush, and it’s a private home address in North Street. Dove will drive you, of course.”

Belle’s brow furrowed in a reaction that had nothing to do with losing study time. She’d heard that name before, she was sure of it, but she couldn’t place it.

“Belle? Is everything ok?”

“Yeah… Just trying to figure out where I know the name from. I don’t know him, but the name’s familiar. Enough of that, go on.”

“Tomorrow night, eight till eight.” Mal paused. “I think you might be in luck with this one, actually. He said that he wasn’t anticipating sexual contact, but you know that sometimes these things change once the nerves have worn off a bit. I’ve had the type before, although I’ll admit this is the first time I’ve had a man make such a request. Jeff has a regular who just doesn’t like to be alone at night. Sometimes people just want someone to hold.”

“All right.” Belle nodded, perhaps her weekend wasn’t as wasted as she thought and she’d still be able to meet Ruby as she’d planned. “Any special requests, anything to be wary of?”

“No. It’s his first call and he’s obviously incredibly nervous, but I thought that you could put him at ease. It’s what you do best, after all.”

Belle gave a snort of laughter. “Oh yes, indeed. Anything else?”

“He didn’t want a blonde, so no last minute bleach jobs,” Mal said wryly. “Actually that’s why he’s come to you. Ariel’s not working tomorrow as she’s out of town, Mei’s already booked and Anna isn’t taking overnights yet.”

Belle sighed. All the other ladies on the agency’s books were blonde except Merida, who didn’t take male clients, so naturally she was the last one standing.

“Ok, I’ll be ready for Dove to pick me up. I’ll even pack nightwear, just in case.”

“That’s my girl.”

Belle laughed, rolling her eyes, and set the appointment in her diary before saying her goodbyes to Mal and hanging up, running a hand through her hair and stretching the cricks out of her neck. If she wasn’t going to have tomorrow night to work on her thesis, then she would have to make up for it now.

She went into the kitchen to make some more coffee; she was going to need it if she was going to get anywhere. Waiting for the kettle to boil, she wondered again where she knew the name Rush from, and whether it was going to cause a problem when she arrived at his home the next day.

Belle shrugged, taking her coffee back through to her room and getting going on her work again. The niggle was still there at the back of her mind, but she’d managed to get through enough strange situations before that she didn’t think she’d have any more trouble with this one than with any of her other clients. It was strange for her to get someone whose main goal in hiring an escort wasn’t sex. She’d had a few jobs in the past that did involve actually escorting people to places, but there had always been added perks afterwards in the hotel room once the event had finished. She’d never had a home address visit that didn’t end with sex.

Anything could happen, after all. Belle knew that; she’d been doing this job for long enough that she didn’t think that anything would shock her anymore. Whatever happened, happened, and she would be prepared for all eventualities. She always was, that was one of the reasons why she was the go-to for Mal whenever something unusual came in.

Still, she really did want to know where she’d heard that name before.

X

It was almost eight o’clock, and Rush was beginning to regret his decision again. Any moment now, Lacey would be coming to his doorstep, and whilst he had no idea what she was expecting, it probably wasn’t someone who was as jittery as a deer in the headlights and who was doped up on over-counter painkillers to overcome the splitting headache he’d suffered under for most of the afternoon as a result of caffeine withdrawal. He’d reluctantly admitted that the vast doses of coffee he was taking to stay awake during the day were probably not helping him at night, but the combined force of no caffeine plus his mind second-guessing this all-important appointment had turned him into a bundle of tension. He was dressed in his normal jeans and shirt, pacing up and down the hallway and ducking into all the rooms as he tried to calm down. At least he knew that it was too late to back out now. Turning into the study, he looked around at all the whiteboards and post-its, things that had, about an hour ago, made perfect sense to him. Now they could have been in Cantonese for all he was taking in.

A car pulled up outside and idled; he heard a door close and the sound of high heels making their measured way up the garden path. Perhaps he could pretend that he wasn’t home? No, he’d paid a not insubstantial amount of money for tonight, and if he chickened out now then he was still in exactly the same position as he had been in before. Besides, whoever was outside could see that the lights were on and could probably see his silhouette moving around behind the thin drapes in the study. It would look incredibly strange if he were suddenly to hide under the desk now.

The doorbell rang, and Rush went to answer it, blinking at the sight that met him. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but the woman standing on the doorstep was certainly not it. He knew that Cara had told him that she was petite, but he hadn’t been expecting someone quite so petite. She must be tiny when she took her shoes off. Her overnight bag looked like it was almost bigger than she was.

“Hello,” she said brightly, with a warm smile. “You must be Nicholas. I’m Lacey.”

Rush nodded, and stepped aside to allow her into the house. The black hatchback waiting at the curb pulled away, but not before Rush had got a glimpse of the person driving it, a huge bald man who could probably lift Lacey off the floor with one hand. He gulped, glad that the chauffeur wasn’t sticking around.

Rush closed the door against the cool evening air and turned back to face Lacey, who was standing looking at him a little expectantly, but there was nothing judgmental in her gaze. He felt a little bit more at ease now; since her presence was very much in proportion rather than the larger than life personality he had feared, it gave him a feeling of being a little bit more in control of the situation, of knowing a little bit better where he stood. Of course, now that she was inside the house, he had even less idea what the hell he was going to do now, other than the fact she was there, and she’d be there for the next twelve hours, and hopefully at some point during those twelve hours he’d get some decent kip.

Lacey glanced around the hallway, as if she could tell that just looking at him was unnerving him a little bit, letting his mind catch up to the situation. Rush took a deep breath. He could do this. He was a scientist for fuck’s sake, and that meant that he ought to be thinking logically and rationally and not getting caught up in this spiral of jumbling emotions that he really couldn’t make sense of. For a start, Lacey was beautiful. Oh, he had no doubt that all of the agency’s escorts were very good-looking, but there was something in Lacey’s natural, open smile that gave her true beauty. Having not made this appointment with any kind of attraction in mind, his brain was now going into overdrive, not knowing whether finding her attractive was going to be a help or a hindrance when push came to shove. She was wearing a deep blue coat belted at the waist, and black tights with shiny stilettos like polished onyx, but he couldn’t see a hemline below the coat, and for a terrifying moment he wondered if she was wearing anything other than underwear beneath it. Thankfully she chose that moment to undo the coat and slip it off her shoulders, revealing a classic little black dress beneath. Although there was a coat stand right next to her, she folded the garment neatly over her arms and continued her appraisal of the hallway as Rush got his act together. He saw the moment her eyes alighted on the dresser, and banged his head back against the door with a groan as he realised that she was looking at the photo from his and Gloria’s wedding that resided there.

“I’m not married,” he said quickly, although since he hadn’t taken his wedding ring off either, he knew that he couldn’t exactly be inspiring a lot of confidence. “Not… Not anymore.”

Lacey just looked at him with her lovely, open smile.

“It’s not my place to judge, Nicholas. This is your time and I’m here for you.”

“I know, I just feel like that ought to be said.” He paused, and felt his shoulders sagging. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” he muttered. It was a terrifying admission to make, really, for someone who was so used to being in charge and being in control of situations as he was. Saying that he was completely lost was not something that he would ever do, and admitting to needing help was difficult.

“Shall we move out of the hallway?” Lacey suggested.

Rush nodded.

“Yeah, that would be a good start.”

X

That Nicholas was completely out of his depth was obvious, but as Belle had said, it was not her place to judge. This was his time and his appointment, so they would go at whatever pace he wanted and do whatever made him feel the most comfortable.

He led her through into the living room and indicated for her to take a seat wherever, and he ran a hand through his hair.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

Belle shook her head. “I’m fine, thank you, unless you’re having something.”

“No… I mean, I’d happily kill someone for some coffee right now but I need to sleep later, so…” He tailed off. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. I can understand that it can be a bit overwhelming.” Belle patted the seat on the sofa beside her, and Nicholas sank into it, still looking at a complete loss. “Why don’t we start by discussing what you want from tonight, and that might make it less awkward.”

He nodded, but remained silent for a long time.

“How much did Cara tell you about what our conversation entailed?” he asked eventually. “I don’t want to go over it all again if possible.”

“She said that you were looking for an overnight stay, and that you weren’t anticipating any intimacy. Are you just looking for companionship?”

“Yeah.” Nicholas sighed. He was staring at the middle distance rather than looking at her, but Belle didn’t take her eyes off him, trying to read the mixed signals that he was giving out. Now that she had the opportunity to really observe him at leisure, she could see that his face was familiar to her just as his name was, but she couldn’t place it at all, and he was clear that unless he had an extremely accomplished poker face, he didn’t know her either. His general discomfiture put paid to the poker face idea, although she thought that he might have a very good one if he hadn’t been so highly strung at that particular juncture.

“I just want to share a bed with someone,” he said, still not looking at her. “Since I lost my wife, I haven’t been able to sleep, and I think that it’s because I miss having someone else in bed with me. Not doing anything,” he hastened to clarify. “Just sleeping. But being there.”

Belle nodded. “That’s absolutely fine,” she said. “That’s normal. It can be hard to get used to such a big upheaval.”

There was a long silence as Nicholas digested her words, and finally he sprung up off the sofa into animated life once more.

“I think I need a drink,” he muttered, going over to a cabinet and taking out a bottle of whisky and a heavy crystal tumbler, pouring a generous measure and knocking back half of it before turning back to Belle. “Do you want one?”

Belle nodded. She would drink if he was drinking, to make him more at ease, although she never liked to have too much when she was working. She liked to keep her wits about her all the time. There was something in her line of work that made her think of the chameleon, changing tastes and looks and manners to suit the mood and the person that she was with. She read the mood and reacted accordingly, although she had to admit that Nicholas was incredibly hard to read.

He was frustrated, she could tell that much, and she knew that he was floundering and too proud to ask for help. He refilled his whisky and brought hers over to her, settling back down on the sofa. Belle took a sip of the amber liquid and let it burn down her throat. She’d never been much of a whisky drinker, but this was good stuff, proper scotch. Well, he was a Scotsman; he probably knew his whisky a lot better than she did.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked. “About your wife?”

Nicholas scoffed. “Are you a therapist as well?”

Belle shrugged. “Listening is an important skill in all lines of work. Whatever’s going on in your head and whyever you asked for me are your business, of course. I don’t want to pry, but it’s obvious that you’ve got something on your chest that you need to get off it. Sometimes it’s easier to confide in a stranger than in someone you know.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Really.”

“You know I’m not going to judge you, and you know that we never have to see each other again after tonight. I’d say that took some of the pressure off.”

“I suppose you’ve got a point.”

There was a long silence, and Belle continued to sip her whisky, observing Nicholas. She could tell that he was lonely, him hiring her was proof enough of that. But she got the impression that not only was he lonely in that sense, but he was truly alone in the world, with no-one to confide in at all, no friend to lend a hand or a shoulder to cry on. He was prickly and guarded, walls up, and she had no desire to try and break them down if he didn’t want them broken.

It was a delicate balance to be struck, between needing privacy and needing help, and Belle would help him to strike it if she could. This was a man very obviously at the end of his rope, so used to not needing anyone and perhaps not having anyone to turn to that now that he had hit this impasse, he had no idea how to handle it. This wasn’t something that he could fix by himself; the very nature of his problem required a second person in order to fix it. That was what Belle intended to do.

“It was cancer,” Nicholas said eventually. “I think that made it worse. The fact that I had so long to get used to the idea and yet I still can’t get over it.”

“Maybe. But there’s no point in beating yourself up about it. You’re not betraying her at all. You’re just trying to save yourself.”

Nicholas sighed, and Belle knew that there was a lot more to this story than met the eye. She wanted to know what it was; she wanted to comfort this man and help him heal as much as she could, but at the same time she knew that it would be a difficult thing to work through. He wasn’t going to volunteer any more information, so she didn’t ask for it. It would come with time. At least she had an insight now.

“Self-preservation is something of a skill of mine,” Nicholas said, and Belle just nodded, continuing to watch him over the rim of her tumbler.

They fell back into silence, but there was an ease to it now. The air was a little clearer, although things were still awkward, and Belle finished her whisky, setting the tumbler down on the glass end table with a chink that sounded far too loud in the quiet living room.

“Shall we go to bed, Nicholas?” she asked.

He looked at her startled for a moment.

“I meant to sleep,” she clarified. “Unless you want something more, of course.”

Nicholas shook his head. “No. I just want to sleep.”

“Then maybe going to bed would be a good place to start.”

Nicholas led her up the stairs into the master bedroom and Belle slipped into the en suite to change. The pyjamas she’d brought weren’t exactly demure, but they were the least sensual set that she owned aside from her outsized sleep t-shirts with Harry Potter logos on, and she had wanted something pretty and feminine in case the appointment did take that turn. A silky camisole and shorts in dark magenta pink with lace edgings, nothing overly revealing.

Nicholas was also wearing pyjamas when she came out of the bathroom, a plain t-shirt and plaid pants.

“I normally sleep on the right,” he said.

Belle nodded. “However you feel most comfortable.”

They got into bed and Nicholas killed the lights, and they both lay there for a while. Belle propped herself up on one elbow, wondering how the logistics were going to work and deciding that it would be best just to let Nicholas take the lead for a while. She could prompt him along if necessary later. He stared up at the ceiling for a while, but then he reached across and took her hand, closing his fingers lightly around her own.

“It’s the lying here that gets me,” he said. “Every time. Just me in the dark, alone with my thoughts. It’s easier to stay awake working most of the time. At least then I don’t have to think about any of it.”

“You need to sleep, Nicholas,” Belle said. “Everyone does.”

He laughed softly. “Gloria used to say that. She asked me what I was trying to prove by staying awake all the time.”

“What are you trying to prove?”

“That it was all worth it in the end, I guess. That her death meant something. I thought that if I just kept working, I could make it mean something. But now I just can’t function anymore.” He sighed. “You don’t want to hear all this.”

“I don’t mind. It’s what I’m here for. I’ll give you what you need, and if that’s a friendly ear and another body beside you, then that’s what you’ll have. I’m here. I’ll take care of you.”

“Thank you.”

He turned onto his side, moving a little closer, and Belle chanced to put an arm around him. He tensed for a moment, then relaxed into her embrace, closing his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said again.

He didn’t speak again. Belle could tell that he was still awake; she had spent so much time lying beside sleeping men that she could tell within just a couple of breaths. Still, he seemed to be much more relaxed now than he had been throughout the rest of the evening. She stroked his hair out of his face, not feeling sleepy herself yet.

She didn’t get to do this often, the kissing and cuddling part that usually came after the deed. Normally it would then be time for her to get up and go, and it was one of the few regrets that she had, the lack of closeness. Even though she and Nicholas were still both fully clothed and had no intentions of taking this any further, there was something in the act that was much more intimate than her usual appointments. There was a raw and naked vulnerability in what they were doing, and Belle felt privileged to think that this man, so obviously guarded and alone in the world, would trust her to see him in such a vulnerable position.

He was a complicated man, that was certain, but she thought that she understood enough to know what he needed. She pulled him in a little closer against her and he did not resist, instead just putting a warm arm around her middle.

“Is this ok?” he asked, still not opening his eyes.

Belle smiled, continuing to stroke his hair.

“This is perfect.”

X

Nicholas was still fast asleep when Belle’s alarm went off, warning her that Dove would be pulling up outside soon. He had turned over during the night but kept his hold on her arm, and now she was spooning up behind him, her chest pressed in close against his back and her fingers still interlaced with his.

It was so different to how she usually woke up. She hadn’t woken up with her arms around someone for a very long time, and if she wasn’t careful, then she was going to get used to it.

Carefully, she detached her hold on him, trying not to wake him as she moved away and went to get changed. She stretched out all her limbs and took a look in the bathroom mirror, smiling as she saw herself looking bright and refreshed, a far cry from how she usually looked in the morning after an appointment. If they were all like this one, then she’d happily work a lot more.

Nicholas stirred as she came out of the bathroom, rolling over onto his back and looking at her through sleepy eyes.

“Is it time already?” he asked.

Belle nodded. “Yes. I didn’t want to wake you, not when you looked so peaceful and I know how much you need your sleep.”

“Yes. That’s definitely the best night’s sleep I’ve had in the last two years. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Belle smiled. “I think I can probably say the same, at least when it comes to appointments. I don't often get to wake up next to someone. It’s a strange feeling.” She paused. “If you ever want to do this again, I would be more than happy to return.”

Nicholas nodded. “Thank you.”

She heard the car pulling up outside the house and went over to peer out of the curtains; as expected it was Dove, right on time as normal.

“I’ll see myself out,” she said. “I think you could probably use all the extra hours you can get.”

Nicholas gave a snort of laughter. “You’re probably right. Thank you again.”

“My pleasure.”

She made her way out of the house and slipped into the passenger seat.

“Everything all right?” Dove asked.

“Yes. Everything’s very good, actually.”

“You’re certainly perkier than you normally are of a morning.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you have a good night’s sleep.”

Dove didn’t say anything else, content to know that Belle was safe and happy. He had always been a man of few words, and his silence gave Belle time to reflect on what had been one of her most interesting appointments.

It was only once she was back on campus on Monday evening, walking away from the chemistry department and past the physics building that she realised where she knew the name Nicholas Rush from and why he seemed familiar. He was there in the foyer, speaking to one of the other astrophysics professors, and it suddenly clicked that she was so used to knowing him as Dr Rush that knowing him as just Nicholas Rush had thrown her off course.

Presently he looked up and their eyes met. Time seemed to freeze for a moment, and then Belle just gave a little nod of recognition. You’re safe with me, she was trying to say.

Rush returned the nod, a little unsurely.

I know. Thank you.

[rookfern]

4 and/or 27 with anyone of your choice!

4. “That’s the sound of his heartbeat.”

(featuring Setekh, Stranger, and Rook)

Rook edged into the expansive office, turquoise eyes bouncing from one odd trinket to the next. The little pearlcatcher swallowed nervously and gripped the package in her claws tighter. The CEO of Tempest Biotech’s reputation preceded her—everyone of ATLAS spoke of her in reverent and often fearful whispers. Rook had never met the illustrious skydancer herself, but she was about to.

The sterile office, bathed in blues and pale grays by the overhead lights, was empty. The brown pearlcatcher shook off some of her wariness and squared her petite shoulders. She was a delivery dragon; no one, no matter how ruthless they sounded, could shake her. Her job was to deliver this package, and the Eleven be damned if she wasn’t going to accomplish her mission. The silence of the room allowed her to gather her courage, but all that flew out the window when a door behind the central desk whisked open.

A smartly-dressed skydancer emerged, her calculating gaze landing on Rook. She curled her mouth in a slight smile, but the expression didn’t reach her eyes.

“Hello, darling.” Setekh cooed and stepped further into the office. A wildclaw—no, a chrome-plated automaton looking every inch a wildclaw—trailed after her, and the door slid closed.

Rook glanced to the android, and her attention caught on the unblinking ruby optics that met her gaze. Wrenching her eyes away, she cleared her throat and addressed the skydancer. “Miss Stormtalon.” She said and extended the package to Setekh. The usual spiel delivery dragons were trained to give abandoned her, and she was left staring owlishly at the CEO.

Swallowing again, she allowed Setekh to take the package and stepped back from the taller dragon. “Delivery from Voltech, courtesy of Maelstrom Postal.” The pearlcatcher finally blurted out. Her attention flitted back to the intimidating wildclaw stationed behind the skydancer.

“Thank you, dear.” Setekh’s lilting tone met her flattened ears, and the CEO followed Rook’s gaze to her chrome companion. “Oh, curious about my metal friend?”

“I—no… I mean, yeah.” Rook stammered and wrung her hands. Embarrassment flushed her ears red, and she dropped her eyes to the black tile floor.

“I’d expect no less from a pretty little thing like you.” The pearlcatcher didn’t need to see Setekh’s face to know a smirk was stretching the skydancer’s maw. “You seem like a smart, inquisitive girl, after all.”

Indignation replaced the embarrassment she felt, and her fidgeting hands turned to curled fists. Rook bit her tongue to keep from spitting a scathing remark at the egotistical CEO.

Luckily, Setekh kept talking before she could make a fool of herself. “His name’s Stranger.” A pause then: “What do you hear?”

“Pardon?” Rook snapped her head up, confusion overwriting her features.

A brief flicker of annoyance passed across the skydancer face. “Listen.” She commanded, flicking a languid hand towards Stranger.

Rook decided she’d rather not piss off the eccentric and possibly-insane businesswoman, so she strained her ears and listened. “I don’t—” A rhythmic, thumping hum met her ears, a sound she had passed off as something electrical in the walls. “What’s that?”

Setekh smiled, and one slender arm looped itself around the brown-scaled pearlcatcher’s shoulders. Rook quelled the urge to shrink away and instead regarded the chrome wildclaw that the CEO pointed to.

“That’s the sound of his heartbeat.”

A meek “Oh,” was all Rook managed to get in before Setekh was pressing on in her nonchalant tone.

“He can sense your fear.”

Rook stiffened, eyes darting from the skydancer to Stranger. She swallowed again and opened her mouth.

“I’d calm down. You’re making him excited, and he gets a bit… unpredictable when he’s excited.” Setekh purred, slowly withdrawing her arm from the pearlcatcher’s shoulders.

“I—I—“ Rook stammered out. She inhaled and exhaled through her nose and took a hesitant step back. “I really should be going, Miss Stormtalon. More packages to deliver.”

“Oh, of course, darling. Run along.” The smile Setekh flashed her this time was almost endearing—like one would give to a family pet.

The pearlcatcher hastily dipped her head and turned on her heel. She wasted no time in slipping out of the office. Setekh’s humored voice trailed after her. “Until next time, Rook.”

It wasn’t until she reached the stormy sky outside that Rook realized she’d never given the skydancer her name.

[scott-magill]

Shadow-Blessed Ep. 9

I took over driving after we crossed the state line between Florida and Georgia. Ruby made arrangements for where we would stop at that time. She never told me where we were heading. I probably should have asked, but I didn’t. As long as it was away from Florida, that was fine with me. We’d had too many close calls in too short a time. Once we’d put a bit more distance between ourselves and our pursuers, I’d worry about a specific destination. I imagined us stopping at some hole in the wall long enough to sleep and then getting back on the road. The GPS shattered those imaginings as it led us to the Hyatt Regency Atlanta. Before I could get out an argument against staying in such a busy hotel, I noticed something odd. A group of people dressed like superheroes walked out of the hotel and got into a waiting minivan. 

“It’s Dragon Con weekend!” Ruby said before I could form a question.

“What?” I asked. 

“It’s kinda like Comic-Con. You know a bunch of hardcore sci-fi and fantasy fans get together and geek out over all their favorite shows, movies, and books,” she said. 

“And what are we doing here?” I asked, already considering the possibility of leaving. 

“Who is going to look for a couple of real witches here?” she asked. It was a fair question. Anyone trying to find me would try to find the real magical scene in Atlanta. I’d been a ward of the Coven for most of my life, and that meant a near-constant training schedule. The closest I got to recreational reading was picking up unassigned spell books and reading through them in my spare time. 

“Fine, but if you’re wrong, I’m picking the next stop,” I said. When I considered it, I was curious about how the news of magic being real would affect people who’d been wishing for exactly that all their lives. I wouldn’t admit that to Ruby, though. We got out of the car, and she told the valet driver a room number.

My fight or flight response jumped into overdrive when we walked into the hotel’s lobby. It was packed. That many people alone stressed me out but adding the fact that I couldn’t see so many of their faces behind their masks and I was ready to run. The urge passed when I felt Umbra pulling my attention inward. I calmed down enough not to make any drastic moves. As my mind cleared, I felt that there were some witches in the room with us. It would normally take a lot more time and focus for me to sense them. To get this level of precision before, I’d have needed silence and a lot more darkness. With Umbra’s help, it was a matter of wanting to know. There were five witches in the lobby, including Ruby and me. One of them had a minor talent that they might never discover their power without the right push. The other two were stronger, definitely aware of their gifts. I sneaked a look at the one nearest to us—a tall man with close-cropped salt and pepper hair. 

I looked away, not wanting to draw his attention. Witches can often pick up on when people are staring at us. If I gave him any more attention, he would notice me. I turned my attention to the last witch. She was a petite black woman with oversized snowflakes in her hair. Her outfit was a floor-length white gown that continued the snowflake theme. It wasn’t cold enough in the lobby to keep the snow from melting, but it held its shape. Other people likely assumed that the snow was fake. Natural snow wasn’t big enough for the naked eye to pick up that much detail. She had to have a strong talent for aquamancy to pull off the costume she was wearing. I didn’t recognize either of the stronger witches as the Coven agents, but that didn’t clear them completely. It was a large organization. It had to be to keep real witchcraft a secret for as long as they did. I didn’t know the face of every witch involved with them. 

Ruby didn’t seem to notice my preoccupation as we walked through the lobby. I’d been so distracted with scoping out the other witches that I didn’t realize we’d skipped the front desk until we stopped in front of the elevator. There were too many people waiting for the elevators with us for me to ask any of the questions that were piling up in my head. So I waited, tracking the other witches' movements to make sure none of them were paying attention to us. The group waiting for the elevator grew so much that there was at least one full load of people left waiting when the first car reached capacity. I was glad that we weren’t stuck waiting. More people were constantly arriving, it seemed, and I didn’t like feeling so crowded. Most of our fellow passengers emptied out before us. And I was grateful that no one followed us off on our floor. 

“Won’t we need keys?” I asked. 

“I am the key. That’s the nice part about hotels going in for the whole magnetic strip key card deal. There isn’t a technomancer worth their salt who can’t get past one of those,” she said. 

“So are we gonna squat in someone’s room while they’re out enjoying the convention?” 

“That’s not what I had in mind. I thought we might enjoy the con a little ourselves. Being on the run doesn’t have to mean that we can’t enjoy life anymore. This is one of the first fantasy conventions held in a world where magic is public knowledge. I’m not saying that it’s going to make history or anything, but we can learn a lot about how the world is going to react right here.” 

Ruby stopped in front of a door and waved her hand over the key card reader. The light flashed green, and she opened the door. The room was enormous, and I was only looking at the living room. The bedroom was just as grand. There was only one bed, but it was large enough to both sleep in it without disturbing each other if we wanted. I went back to the living room and tested the couch. It was comfortable. If Ruby didn’t want to share a bed, I could get a good night's sleep there too. Umbra stepped out of my shadow and moved about the room. They looked like the shadow of a large dog passing over the floor and walls. After they completed a circle around the room, they slid under the door out into the hall. Between Ruby’s access to luxury and Umbra’s security, it should have been easy to relax. But I couldn’t help remembering the last time I’d let my guard down. I was still wearing the only outfit I owned because of a careless mistake. I didn’t have much left to lose if something like that happened again. 

“I’m going to shower, and then we should grab some food. You want to look up what stores are around so that we can get you something new to wear?” Ruby suggested. 

“Yeah sounds like a good plan,” I said. 

I pulled out my tablet and started searching for nearby stores. There were plenty of choices. The sudden financial windfall that came with being Ruby’s traveling companion meant that I didn’t have to look for bargains. Umbra came back while I was narrowing down my options. They’d shifted to look like the shadow of a mouse while they were away. They reassured me, settling into my shadow again and sharing their exploration. Nothing in the surrounding rooms was going to threaten us. Their occupants were excitedly preparing for the convention. How much more excited would they be to know that a living shadow had just spied on them for a couple of witches.

[best-left-hook-jones]

All Flowers Keep the Light (4/6)

France, 1967. After a hurried wedding due to the birth of her son, Emma and her new husband, Neal Cassidy, move to the quiet French countryside for a fresh start. With Neal working late at the psychiatric hospital next door, it is left to Emma to find her own way to settle in to her new life. Desperate to find a way to pass the time, and to find meaning in her life outside of being a mother, Emma takes it upon herself to revive the facility’s neglected greenhouse. But when a handsome blued eyed patient offers to help her look after the plants, everything in Emma’s world changes.

Rated: M for mature themes, brief violence, and smut (not that bad, but I cover my bases). Beta’d by the phenomenal @wellhellotragic. Updates on Mondays!

Tagging: @hollyethecurious, @kmomof4, @captainswanandclintasha, @meremere94, @rouhn, @therooksshiningknight, @fradditonce, @thesheriffandherdeputy,  @followbatb, @branlovesouat, and anyone else that would like to be tagged :)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

AO3

Chapter 4: Four

It would only take someone like Neal not to notice the change in her mood after that. Granted, it had taken two days for Tink to notice, though she likely would have picked up on the change the first day if Henry hadn’t chosen her arrival that morning as the moment to swipe his breakfast plate off of his high chair and onto the floor. The nursemaid had immediately sprung into action, grabbing a towel from the kitchen and making to clean up the mess, leaving Emma to slip out the front door with a quick goodbye. At the time, Emma had felt some guilt at having left in such a hurry, but if it meant postponing the look of pity that she would receive the following days, it had been worth it.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t had Henry to cover for her when Ruby had confronted her at lunch that day. The sharp receptionist had zeroed in on her when she’d gone to lunch on the bench in the gardens, and it hadn’t taken her long to declare that a petite blond nurse had gossipped in her ear. Emma had tried to wave it off, but Ruby had been adamant. They were friends now, she’d argued. Emma had caved then, and once the words were out, she’d found it hard to stop. She was close to tears by the time she’d finished, Ruby having waited quietly and patiently throughout the entire tale. Emma hadn’t been sure what outcome scared her most; that Ruby would judge her for having feelings for a man when she was so clearly married to someone else, or that she would chastise her for having given him up.

But Ruby had done neither, and had simply held her while she’d cried. When she’d run out of tears, Ruby had suggested that she go home and rest, but Emma had refused. If she left, she wasn’t certain she’d ever go back, and she couldn’t bear the thought of letting the garden return to ruins. So she’d returned to the greenhouse, eyes red rimmed, until the sun had begun to set.

Such was the new pattern that she fell into; working in the greenhouse alone in the mornings, lunching with Ruby during her breaks, and returning to the house in the afternoon to see Henry. It became easier as the days passed to forget that there had been a time when she’d had an assistant as she’d worked each morning, though there were still days when she’d turn to ask her partner a question about a certain plant or tool, only to find the table next to hers vacant. Those days were the hardest.

She hadn’t been able to bring herself to ask Ruby about her former companion, and Ruby was clever enough not to bring up the subject. Instead, Ruby spent most of their hours together recounting tales of her childhood, and delighting her friend with funny anecdotes about the facility’s history. Emma came to learn that Ruby had chosen to become a nurse after her grandmother had fallen ill, though it hadn’t mattered - the old woman was apparently as resilient as she was stubborn and had recovered not long after. Choosing to stay close to her anyways, Ruby had found her place at Baudelaire and had quickly risen through the ranks to become the head receptionist and foremost knowledge on the building. She had earned the trust and respect of every member of staff and patient there - and rightly so, Emma thought.

Still, even with her new found friendship with Ruby and her peaceful afternoons with her son, Emma couldn’t help but feel as though she was missing something. A ‘something’ that she hadn’t so much as lost as pushed away.

And, as the days began to blur into one another, a ‘something’ that she became more sure was never coming back.

There was nothing special about the morning until she entered the greenhouse to find Killian standing there. The initial sleepless night had turned out to be the first of many, and for a moment, Emma thought she was hallucinating. He was leaning against the workbench, one of the apple pastries she had baked the day before half-eaten in his hand, looking devilishly handsome, but as though he, too, hadn’t slept in weeks. Not a dream then - she could have never imagined him looking so rough. He’d stood up straighter when he’d spotted her, pastry still in hand.

She was still gaping when he finally addressed her, though he seemed to talk only to break the silence. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he was nervous. The sound of his familiar baritone was still enough to cause her heart to swell.

“Are these your famous apple tarts?” He asked casually, taking another mouthful as though he’d never gone.

“Y-yes,” she stuttered out, answering more on reflex than anything. “I made them just in case…”

She choked on the end of that thought. Unable to sleep, she’d woken up early the other day and had baked them to distract herself from her bad mood. She’d brought them along when she’d gone to the greenhouse, just in case… But he hadn’t come, and the tarts had been left to cool on the workbench when she’d left a few hours later.

Killian hummed in appreciation. “They’re very good. Comparable to my mother’s, I dare say.”

“They were better yesterday.”

“I’m sorry to have missed them.”

He was sorry - she could hear it in the way the bravado left his voice and his words cracked. Perhaps that was what did her in, what broke through the barrier she’d begun building around her heart over the past few days, but a moment later she was crying, a string of apologies rushing from her lips as he stepped forward to wrap his arms around her in a soothing embrace.

They stood there for a long moment, her sobs mixing with his hushes and words of reassurances. He tried to explain and apologize for his behaviour, but it hadn’t helped soothe her much. She didn’t want to hear about how upset he had been, or how he’d cried himself to sleep on his cot each night just as she had. She didn’t want to hear about how he’d tried to work up the nerve to go back to her, to beg her for her forgiveness until he was blue in the face, and how he’d become convinced that Emma would have moved on without him in his absence. In the end, it had been Ruby that had finally taken him from his room and given him a good strip down for his sulking. Through her scolding, Killian had gathered that Emma hadn’t lost hope in him, and was likely as miserable as he was. He’d made the decision to return to her in that moment.

She thought she could feel his hand rubbing soft circles on her back, trying to calm her, but she was trembling too much to be sure.

He’d come back.

She must have muttered the thought out loud, because she felt him snort a laugh into her hair.

“Well, if I’d known I’d be missing out on those wonderful pastries…”

Emma erupted into a giddy mess of laughter as she finally found the strength to disentangle herself from his arms, wiping the tears from her eyes. Killian used his thin sleeve to dispel of a stray drop that had escaped down her cheek, his limited wardrobe not allowing for things like handkerchiefs.

“Now, Miss Swan,” he began, his signature, mischievous smile returning to grace his features. “Shall we see what you’ve managed since I’ve been gone?”

Emma beamed at the nickname. “I think you’ll find I’ve done quite well, even without my best assistant, Mr. Jones.”

“I have no doubt. Though the petunias look a bit...” He was cut off by Emma’s mock glare, and he raised his hands in surrender.  

It was much easier than she’d expected to get back into her routine with Killian by her side. Once the horrible nerves and apologies had faded away, the rest of it came back easy enough. They talked, chatted away about anything and everything, and teased each other about their progress. Killian noted that Emma had gained some speed, and that she could nearly pot plants as quickly as he did. Almost, of course.

Much to Emma’s surprise, Killian asked about Neal as well. At first she was hesitant, afraid that her answers would only reopen fresh wounds, but she gradually opened up once it was clear that Killian was simply showing genuine curiosity. He wanted to know what he was like, how they had met, when they had married. Those questions were harder to talk about - she hated admitting that Neal had been a one night stand gone wrong, especially to Killian. But he didn’t seem to hold any judgement, simply nodding along, lips pursed, as she explained how she had fallen pregnant the night the well dressed physician in training had accosted her at the bar in her hometown. She hadn’t known at the time that Neal came from money, and she hadn’t cared much for that fact later that month when she’d tracked him down to tell him the news. But Neal had come to his own conclusions early on, raging and spitting lies about how she had deceived him for his status. That had been complete idiocy in his part - Neal’s biological mother had insisted that her son take her maiden name when he was born, to give him his own path in life. From what Emma had gathered, Belle had been a kind mother, full of hope for her son while being acutely aware of her husband’s growing lust for power. Robert Gold had obliged, much as he had to everything his late wife had requested of him. Neal had finally calmed down and had eventually accepted that he hadn’t been played for money, but the episode had only paved the way for future arguments later on.

But if Neal had been upset, his father had been livid. She hadn’t been in the room when Neal had made the phone call, but when he’d approached her later that evening with a marriage proposal, his face was paler than the new moon. Emma had been surprised at the offer - she had been willing to settle for a small purse to help her raise the baby long after he’d gone, but the idea of her child having a father as well had been tempting. It was more than she had ever been granted herself.

They hadn’t expected to moved to the French countryside so soon. Under the guise of providing a wedding gift to his son, Gold had arranged to have a cottage built on the grounds of his asylum. Emma suspected Neal knew as much as she did that it was simply a cover to keep Neal close and out of further trouble. She had never managed to find out for sure, though - Gold had passed away only a few months before they had been expected to move in. The move in plans had necessarily been pushed forward, and Neal had been summoned to arrive as soon as possible to take his father’s place. Everything had just happened so fast then. Emma wasn’t sure she’d had a chance to take it all in yet.

At some point during her story, they had given up working, and were lounging on the same workbench where everything had gone wrong all those weeks ago. She never thought she’d be sitting like this with him again, talking so casually about life. Of missed hopes and dreams. He was already more patient than Neal had ever been, and perhaps it was because he could sense how much she needed to vent her feelings, but Emma rather thought it was because he wanted to know. He wanted to know her. It was definitely a first.

And as they sat facing each other, Emma couldn’t help but notice how easy their touches had become. She’d barely blinked when Killian had picked up her hand and had begun rubbing soothing circles over her knuckles with the pad of his thumb. Every swipe of his finger over her skin sent a wave of calm over her, and she found it easier and easier to speak to him about her spotted past.

Killian changed the topic not long after that, moving away from Neal and focusing instead on her son. That request, Emma would happily oblige. Henry had been the single most light of her life since his birth, the only thing that had kept her sane throughout the nonsense. The smile he gave her when she talked about Henry’s first footsteps, and how his first words had been mama during a routine bath one evening. Killian didn’t seem at all bothered by the fact that she had a child - if anything, his gazes became more loving.

Whatever wrongs she had suffered in her life, she was almost willing to pardon them all for having met Killian Jones.

When darkness descended upon the small glass room, Emma almost didn’t want to leave. It was only when Killian reassured her that he would be there the next morning that she finally agreed to go. Though, she nearly changed her mind right then and there when he bent down to kiss her as he made to leave. It was sudden - clearly an act build out of nerves - but Emma had kissed him back in equal measure. She couldn’t find it in herself to care about anything else in that moment. How could she when Killian was holding her head just so, and how her own fingers seemed to find their grip so easily in his short dark hair?

When she’s finally pulled away, it was only because her mind was all too aware of the young toddler who was waiting at home for her. She would go to him now, run him his bath, and prepare him for bed as usually. Though maybe - just for tonight - his bedtime story would involve a certain blue eyed gentleman who slept only a half a mile away.

--

The work to keep the greenhouse in order became a challenge when the snow finally began to descend on the small village a few months later. The narrow river that weaved between the hills and along the main avenue had frozen over almost entirely, and the sudden stillness seemed to drag the rest of the world to a stop with it. The already quiet village fell to near silence as residents rarely ventured out from their homes for anything more than church and weekly trips to the stores for supplies. Most days, the only signs of life from the brick houses being the plumes of smoke from the chimneys and the flicker of light from the lit hearths inside.

Emma had used the last of her monthly marital allowance - a prenup condition insisted by Gold - on buying a small electric heater for the greenhouse. The heater had done its job quickly, and a few hours after turning the motor on, the small room had become engulfed in an intense heat that fogged up the thin window panes and made the walls sweat with moisture. The plants seemed to be thriving well enough despite the change in temperature, and the near constant spritzes of water that were showered over the petals and leaves was enough to counteract the dryness of the heater.  

The two workers, on the other hand, were already itching in their clothes from the humidity. Emma had found a piece of twine to pull her hair back into a tight pony tail, but there was no remedy for how the fabric clung to her sweat slicked skin. By the frequency with which Killian was dabbing at his brow, he wasn’t faring much better. She had to pull her gaze away from him as he rolled his shoulders to readjust the linen stretched across his back. It was surly her imagination that the heat in the room seemed to double as she followed his movement.

Killian was the one to finally break twenty minutes later, running his hands under the cool water of the sink in the corner to cool off. “Time for a rest?”

Emma looked over from where she was finishing up the last geranium.

“What, Jones?” She teased with a victorious grin. “Can’t handle the heat?”

“Oh, I assure you. I most certainly can,” he replied, leaning against the sink and watching her as she cleaned up her station. Emma was sure his eyes were roaming her figure the way she had his moments ago. She would blame the resulting blush on the heat later.

“Of course! I forget that you grew up setting fires to innocent bakery ovens,” she teased.

“It’s one of my many skills, let’s say.”

Her task done, Emma joined him by the tap, rinsing her own aching fingers.  “Ah, and what, pray tell, are these ‘many skills’?”

She felt his lips brush her neck as he leaned over her shoulder. She nearly dropped the little bar of soap in her hands.   

“Gardening.”  

She hummed, leaning back into him. “Is that all?”

He seemed to think for a moment. “Sailing,” he finally added.

“Sailing?” She hadn’t expected that.

“Mhm. My brother and I used to sail every weekend growing up. We were quite skilled at it too. We thought we would one day join La Royale and become the prides of the French navy.”

Killian was trying to distract her from the questioning as he placed light kisses at her neck, but Emma would have none of it. He had sparked her curiosity.

“Why didn’t you?”

The kisses ceased, and she felt him sigh into her neck. Whatever the story was, it wasn’t a good one.

“Liam fell ill,” he finally began, twisting around to lean against the sink to face her. “We were at a market and stumbled upon a young boy selling a plant he called ‘dreamshade’. It didn’t look like much, but of course Liam had to have it. He had always been obsessed with the study of plants. I used to tease him relentlessly about it when we were children, but he never grew out of it.”

“A man with a fondness for plants,” Emma commented. “You must be related.”

Killian smile grew sad as he continued. “He spent several nights examining it, and on one of the nights he must have have cut himself on one of the thorns. I found him unconscious in the morning when he didn’t come to breakfast.”

“Oh god.” She hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

“I ran back to the market and found the boy. He admitted it was deadly and offered an antidote. For a price. Of course I obliged, and gave him everything I had.”

Emma was nearly afraid to ask. “Did it work?”

“Yes, but Liam was bedridden for months afterwards. And I couldn’t well leave him to join the navy with Liam the way he was, so I spent my days studying everything I could about the plant - and every plant, for that matter. I wanted to know what it was that had nearly taken my brother from me.”

“So you became a gardener?”

Killian shrugged. “It seemed the right thing to do.”

There was a hint of sadness in his eyes that broke her heart. A man with a spirit as wild and adventurous as his should not be locked away. He deserved his freedom as much as anyone else, and the cruelty of the situation left a terrible taste in his mouth. She hadn’t told him as much, but she had been planning a conversation with Neal in her head for days now, pacing her room at night rehearsing her argument. Perhaps Neal simply didn’t know what his father had done. Perhaps he would see past the pettiness and grant him his freedom. She had never known Neal to be a particularly cruel man - stubborn and short-tempered, yes, but not cruel. She hadn’t planned on telling Killian of her intention to talk to Neal in case Neal refused. The last thing she wanted was to provide him with false hope, just to see it ripped away again. But she couldn’t bear the hurt whenever he talked about his past life.

Placing both hands softly against his cheeks, Emma stared into the eyes of the man she had come to care for more than any man she had ever known.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” she promised, her voice barely more than a whisper. She felt him begin to turn his head away, to protest against her hope, but she held firm.

“I’m serious, Killian. You’re going to be free again. I promise you.”

He didn’t turn away this time. Instead, he just stared back, his face filled with awe. She had seen the look before on his face, in the reflection of the window panes when he thought she couldn’t see. Every ounce of affection she had for him was always reflected back in equal measure, and it never failed to make her heart flutter.

He deserved more than he had been given in his life. He was more than the doctors claimed he was, more than the lost boy they had turned him into. He deserved a saviour, someone to give him everything he had ever wanted. And while Emma was certain that wasn’t her - hell, she wasn’t even sure she could set him free from what her own father-in-law had done -  perhaps she could be enough for him for now. Perhaps they could be lost together.

Feeling the abundance of emotion rush over her, she pulled him in for a kiss. They had never gone much farther than simple stray kisses, both too afraid of being caught in the act by another overeager blond nurse. But they needed this, needed each other today, and there was no stopping the hands that wandered her body or the fingers that tangled in his dark hair. They were practically panting by the time Killian broke away, his mouth leaving where it had latched to her neck just long enough to lift her up so that she was sitting on the edge of the porcelain sink. As soon as Emma was settled, Killian positioned himself between her bare legs, his lips finding hers again as Emma’s fingers reached to tug down the waistband of his trousers. The position was awkward and they were both drenched in sweat from the hours of labour, but it would have to do. There was little time for nervous jitters. They would need to hurry.

Killian let out a shuddered breath as she palmed his length, his kisses becoming more sloppy as he hurried to push the skirt of her dress up and yanked clumsily at her undergarments. They gasped in unison a few moments later as Killian slid into her tight heat, his moves careful and tentative. It had been awhile since Emma had allowed a man to touch her like this, her physical relationship with Neal having ceased when she had fallen pregnant with Henry, and all but died in the time since. But as long as it had been for her, Emma knew it had been much longer for Killian, and the man before her was practically trembling, whether from want or nerves, she wasn’t sure. He’d frozen the moment Emma had stiffened in pain, his forehead meeting hers as he waited, out of breath, for her to give him a sign to continue. Emma ran a hand through the hair at the base of his neck to help sooth him as the fainest bit of discomfort faded into a much more pleasurable ache. When she was ready, Emma drew his lips back to hers, and the next moment the greenhouse was filled with the sounds of muffled moans and heavy breaths.

Emma’s hands gripped the back of his sweat drenched shirt as he moved within her, his hands steadying her as she slipped further toward him on the narrow ledge until he was practically holding her aloft on his own. She wrapped her legs tighter around his hips, pulling him in closer and drawing moans from both of them. It had never been like this before, not with anyone. Each movement, every thrust, was for her, to bring her over the edge, and Emma could feel that he was holding back for her sake. Not wanting to be the first to fall, Emma whispered words of encouragement in his ear until he gave in completely. In the end, they came together, shuddering in each others’ arms and gasping out each others’ names.

The lazy kisses that had followed afterwards were on the forefront of her mind as she crawled into bed that night, her soiled clothes hidden in the bottom of her hamper. She would worry about washing them later - for now, her mind was whirling with what would come tomorrow. She would need to talk to Neal - she and Killian had decided on that before she’d left. Killian needed to be released. And as neither were confident in the director’s generosity alone, they’d also decided on a contingency plan, and were prepared to bring in reinforcements if necessary.

Emma had begun step one as soon as she’d returned home; leaving Neal a note on his nightstand, requesting that he at least attempt to be home for dinner in the evening. Truthfully, it didn’t matter if he complied. If he didn’t return home, she would simply go to him. There was no time for waiting. A man’s freedom was at stake.

Not just any man. Killian Jones.

The man - quite literally - of her dreams that night.

[romioneflufffest]

Simple Pleasures

Author: @idearlylovealaugh

Prompt: Diagon Alley, date night

Description: Where better to celebrate a special occasion than the fanciest restaurant in town?

Rating: T

The atmosphere at Le Cochon Peint justified its reputation as the most fashionable and hard-to-come-by reservation in Diagon Alley. On a Saturday night in June almost every table was occupied by elegantly dressed witches and wizards, and a number of those heads turned as a young, attractive couple was shown to a table in nearly the exact center of the restaurant. The man, tall and strikingly ginger, pushed in the chair of his petite, bushy-haired companion in an unobtrusive display of chivalry before taking his seat amid the buzz of interested chatter from diners seated nearby.

“Quite the place,” Ron remarked, glancing around as the napkin in front of him sailed elegantly into the air, unfolded itself from it’s complicated swan design and drifted neatly onto his lap.

“It’s lovely,” Hermione agreed, smiling at him warmly. “I’m so glad we finally made it here. I’ve been hearing about it for months!”

“Seems like the right kind of place for an anniversary dinner,” he reasoned. “These posh drinks are alright, really,” he added thoughtfully, swirling around a ruby-coloured concoction he had ordered at the swanky bar in the restaurant’s lobby.

“That bartender thought you were quite alright, too, I think,” Hermione replied slyly.

“She was just being friendly,” Ron scoffed, though his ears pinked ever-so-slightly. “And she got a lot friendlier after she heard me give my name to the bloke at the front,” he added skeptically.

“The maître d’,” Hermione supplied automatically.

Ron smiled knowingly at her as he shook his head. “Right.”

“Besides, I doubt she needed to hear your name to know who you are,” she conjectured.

“The red hair I’ll grant you, but these robes are brand-new!” he joked. His eyes glowed with warmth as he watched her laugh. “Have I told you how bloody gorgeous you look tonight?”

She flushed, feeling slightly absurd to be so pleased. “Yes, but you also told me that last week after I went twelve rounds with Crookshanks and the bath, so I’m not sure I trust your judgement.”

“Hmmmm, I stand by that statement,” he mused, regarding her appraisingly.

“You’re ridiculous - I was drenched!” Hermione cried in amusement, remembering the soaked and disheveled state she had been in.

“Exactly,” he replied, mischief in his eyes. “I….”  

“Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, what a delight!”

A booming voice cut him off as a florid man in ostentatious golden robes planted himself beside their table. Hermione glanced around self-consciously as he heartily shook Ron’s hand and feigned an elaborate kiss on her own. Every head in the restaurant seemed to have swiveled in their direction and was watching the scene with interest. “I have the honor to be the proprietor of Le Cochon Peint and please allow me to say that we are so, so gratified to have you dine with us this evening, and we hope that everything is to your express liking. If either of you have a particular appetite tonight, please permit me to communicate it to the chef. He will be more than happy to cater to your every whim.”

Hermione, still caught off guard, demurred. “Oh no, I’m sure the regular menu is…”

“We want to make sure we have the pleasure of your patronage again. Perhaps we could have a quick snap for our Wall of Fame?”

A slender, nimble man appeared to materialize out of thin air by his elbow and before they were fully aware of what was happening, they were enveloped in a explosive puff of purple smoke, the cameraman deftly slipping away with what was assuredly a picture of a supremely dumbstruck Ron and Hermione.

“Fantastic,” the manager beamed. “And when you return, perhaps you would be inclined to bring a friend? A very close and well-known friend?” he finished with an insinuating smile. And with one more effusive “Fantastic!” he was gone in a swirl of shimmering fabric.

Ron and Hermione could only gape at each other for a moment, before Ron set his jaw angrily.

“That was …”

“Ridiculous,” she supplied, shielding her burning face with the leather-bound menu.

“That’s not what I was going to say,” Ron grumbled under his breath, still glaring in the direction the manager had retreated.

“Good thing Harry isn’t with us, can you imagine what that man would’ve done?” she giggled.

“Yeah, probably would’ve dropped on all fours and started licking his boots,” Ron snorted.

“He was fairly horrid,” Hermione allowed, “but the food is supposed to be delicious.” She felt the heat leaving her cheeks as she put the encounter behind them. “Let’s just ignore it and enjoy ourselves. We haven’t been out in ages!”

Ron’s expression was still rather sour, but it lifted as a smart and blessedly discreet server came by to take their order.  Moments later a small, round tray zoomed neatly to their table, hovering in midair as Ron took the two cocktails it was bearing and placed them on the table. They sipped their drinks as the tray soared back to the bar, banking a wide turn around a woman carrying a flaming entrée. Hermione was about to ask Ron what he thought he’d order when she noticed him looking down at something on the table with a frown on his face.

“Is everything alright?” she asked, concerned.

Ron looked up at her with wide eyes. “Switch me places,” he whispered urgently, glancing quickly over her shoulder. She turned to see what he had been looking at and he stood, pushing out his chair with a loud scrape.

She rose almost automatically, and he quickly ushered her around to the other side of the table, pushing in what was previously his chair as she sat.

“What was that about?” she asked, bemused, as he took her seat across from him.

“The bartender put her floo address on my napkin,” he muttered.

Hermione laughed. “I told you she fancied you!” she exclaimed. She leant to the side and was just able to catch a glimpse of the sleek blonde mixing drinks at the bar, ignoring Ron’s muted squawking not to look. “I’m beginning to think you have a special fondness for barkeeps,” she teased as she straightened up. “First Madame Rosmerta, and now this…”

“Very funny.” He was quiet for a moment, before looking at her intently. “Has it really been so long since I’ve taken you out?”

“ Oh Ron, I wasn’t complaining!” she reassured him. “Honestly, we’ve both been so busy.”

“Still…”

“It was really thoughtful of you to make the reservation, you know,” she put in, smiling to herself as he scoffed. He had always been so terrible at accepting compliments, a trait she found adorable and exasperating in equal measure. “And even more so because you made sure that they paid their kitchen elves fair wages.”

He snorted even as he deflected her praise. “Well, you know people still try to get out of it if they can.”

“It’s outrageous that we haven’t been able to pass that statute yet,” she frowned earnestly. “Former house elves have desirable, marketable skills, but unless we… I’m sorry,” she caught herself in exasperation. “I don’t want to talk about work all night,” she added, sliding her hand across the table toward him.

Ron grinned as he covered her small hand and with his own. “No mind. It doesn’t bother me, y’know.” He laughed as she raised a skeptical eyebrow, lacing their fingers together. “I always like it when you get all worked up.”

“Hmm, so that’s why you’re always trying to drive me mad.”

“Hermione,” he said in a deeply wounded tone. “Just trying?”

Her laughing retort was drowned out by a piercing, reedy voice accosting her from across the room.

“Ms. Granger-Weasley! Ms. Granger-Weasley! Oh, how lucky to run into you here!”

The startled look Hermione exchanged with Ron confirmed that the balding, bespectacled man bearing down on them was just as unknown to him.

“I’m sorry, Mr…. er…”

“Blunderman, Walter Blunderman,” he supplied. Hermione watched in disbelief as the man spotted a vacant chair at a neighboring table and drew it up between them. “It really is too lucky to have met you here, because I have this fantastic - well, revolutionary, really - idea, and what’s astonishing, truly astonishing, is how few people in the Ministry have been receptive to it.”

Hermione cringed internally as he continued to expound upon his pet project, completely oblivious to his audience’s mounting vexation. The man seemed capable of sustaining an astonishing flow of speech as she waited in vain for him to take a breath.

“…and with your name attached to it, it could hardly fail to succeed, wouldn’t you agree?” the man finally finished, looking between the two of them.  

Sensing that Ron’s response was going to be decidedly south of proper, Hermione cut in quickly. “Mr. Blunderman, I appreciate your commitment to the concept, but my husband and I are here as private citizens and… oh look, our first course is here!” Hermione exclaimed, silently thanking the kitchen staff for their unknowingly impeccable timing. “I’m sure you’d be happy to continue this conversation on Monday during office hours, when I can give it the attention it so clearly deserves,” she added sweetly, leaving very little room for disagreement.

After a regrettable assurance to set up the first available appointment and a glance at Ron’s stony face, Mr. Blunderman beat a hasty retreat. With the table to themselves once more, Hermione exhaled.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Why are you sorry? It’s him as should be apologizing,” Ron snorted. “Bloody nerve.” He looked down at their plates and sighed. “Bad timing, but I have to nip to the loo really quick, ok?”

“Of course!”

“You don’t have to wait for me to start,” he added as he slid out of his chair and set off for the restroom.

Despite Ron’s urging, she didn’t feel as if it’d be right to start without him, so she contented herself with studying the plates that had be set in front of them. The food was elegantly and artfully arranged (not that there was very much  of it, but still). Tasteful string music played low in the background, but now that she was alone she couldn’t help hearing her and Ron’s names repeated often in the conversations floating around her. She was uncomfortably aware of eyes on her as she took a sip of her drink and then folded her hands in her lap. It didn’t seem safe to look anywhere, as every face she glanced at seemed to be looking directly at her.

She was wishing that they had been placed at a more secluded table (although she had a strong suspicion that they were intentionally not) when it occurred to her that Ron was taking much longer in the men’s room than she could ever remember. Hoping he wasn’t feeling unwell, she turned slightly to look in the direction of the restrooms and was startled to see Ron emerge from the corridor, ears blazing red and a mortified expression on his face.

“Ron, what…!”

Ron seemed to struggle for words as he retook his seat. “Three women - ambushed me outside of the men’s!” he whispered agitatedly, looking around. “They wanted my autograph, and when I told them - nicely, y’know - that I was just out for a quiet night and turned to leave, one reached around and grabbed my… my…” He widened his eyes and jerked his head toward his lap expressively.

Hermione’s burgeoning amusement was immediately supplanted by a surge of white-hot fury. “Which woman?” she hissed, looking around. “Point her out!”

“I don’t see her! And I don’t bloody want to,” he added emphatically. He raked a hand through his hair, blowing out a frustrated breath. “You know what? Let’s get out of here.”

“And go home?” she asked as she rose, somewhat crestfallen. Though the restaurant had shaped up to be a bit of a disaster - and as much as she loved spending time with Ron in their flat - she had been looking forward to their night out together and was loathe for it to end so quickly.

“No, not home,” he replied, digging into his pocket and dishing a pile of shining coins onto the crisp linen. “That should more than cover it,” he said. “C’mon.”

She took his hand, grabbing her wrap from the back of her chair before letting him lead her back through the artful lighting and tasteful music and into the warm June night. _____________________________________________

“This is amazing,” Hermione raved. “This is honestly the best chippy I’ve ever had.”

Ron hummed his agreement, grunting with pleasure as he crunched into another gorgeous piece of fried fish. He had draped his robes over the back of the bench and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt to the elbow. Hermione passed him a paper napkin and he grinned a thank-you as he took it with oil-slick fingers. She gazed out at the river as she bit into another steaming hot chip, enjoying the light breeze and twinkling lights of the city.

“How did you ever know about this place?” she asked idly.

“Your dad, actually.”

Her eyes snapped to him in surprise, but he was rooting around in the newspaper for another chip. “My dad? But I’m quite sure I’ve never been here. When did you ever come here with my father?”

Ron took his time swallowing before he replied. “Day we got married. So, three years ago exactly.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding!”

“Nope,” he answered with a smack of his lips. Realizing that she wasn’t going to be satisfied without the full story, he continued. “It was sometime that morning - blokes don’t take that long to get ready, you know? So there was rather a lot of time just sitting around and thinking.” “Not always the best situation for you,” she teased affectionately.

“Alright, alright,” he laughed. “But… yeah, actually. And people were coming in and out - my brothers, and Harry and my dad, but there was one moment where they must’ve been out helping with stuff, and your dad came in. And he took one look at me and I think he could tell that I was in a rough way with nerves.”

“What?! You said you never were!”

“I said I wasn’t nervous about marrying you,” he clarified. “I knew I wanted to marry you for yonks. But I was nervous as hell about you marrying me.”

She peered up at him through narrowed eyes. “That’s very sneaky,” she commented.

“Well either way, I’m telling you now,” he replied mildly. “I was really bloody nervous about messing up the vows, or the rings… or of being a rubbishy husband generally,” he continued seriously. “You know, I always want you to have the best, and there were just a lot of ways I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to give that to you.”

“Ron…”

“Anyway, your dad saw me looking like I was about to Keep for my first Gryffindor match and he took me here. Said there was nothing to settle a bloke’s stomach like greasy fish and chips, and that this was the best place in London to do it. I reckon he was right on both counts. And we talked a bit, about life and marriage and stuff like that.”

“I can’t believe you’ve never told me!” Hermione exclaimed, shaking her head in wonder. The mental image of Ron and her father sat on this same bench, having a heartfelt conversation in their formalwear, was making her feel decidedly emotional.

“Well, it was a bit personal,” he said good-humouredly. He paused. “But it was the moment I really felt like I’d be a part of your family. I mean, your dad asked me to apparate us to London, and you know they don’t like traveling that way. It took some trust. I just felt better, after that.” He looked down at her intently. “And then when I saw you coming down the aisle, I wasn’t worried about being a good husband, because I knew I’d do anything on earth to make you happy.”

There was no way she could resist kissing him at that point, and all the fishy grease in the world wasn’t going to stop her. Her fingers twisted into the front of his button-up as she pulled him closer, savoring the warmth of his lips and the feeling of his large hand cradling the back of her head. She pressed her forehead to his for a moment as they broke apart, thanking the universe that she had this man to share her life with.

The night was warm and pleasant, but she snuggled into his side all the same.

“I think we should come here for every anniversary,” she sighed contentedly.

Ron wrapped his arm more tightly around her, resting his chin on her curls. “Well, I was going to take you to Paris next year, but if you insist…”

She laughed for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. There was no one that could make her feel as free and happy as Ron, in any situation - no matter how ridiculous. Free and happy and safe and loved. It was amazing, when she really stopped to think about it, and it deserved to be celebrated every chance they got.

“You know, it’s almost a shame that we decided not to exchange gifts,” she remarked, casually stroking her hand up and down his toned forearm.

“Why’s that?”

“Because the traditional gift for a third anniversary is leather.”

Against her will, the corners of her mouth pulled up of their own accord as she sensed his eyes boring into her. She finally gave in and looked up at him, seeing his mischievous grin mirror her own.

“I think we can work something out.”

[chalabrun]

saint lost, chapter 1

Title: Saint Lost Word Count: 1647 Pairing: Ravus/Noctis & one-sided Ardyn/Ravus Rating: M Warnings: None Summary: A Corpse Bride AU. In an effort to save his sister from the snares of an arranged marriage, Ravus Nox Fleuret takes it upon himself to volunteer in her stead to be wed to Chancellor Ardyn Izunia. What seems to be a steady arrangement instead devolves into a political ploy for power and for Ravus’ life to be forfeit among the dead. Yet, it is here where an unexpected ally might be his only chance for absolution.

                                                READ ON AO3

“Mother wouldn’t have forced this on you, Ravus.”

“Mother isn’t here, sister.”

He stands before the mirror in his own bedroom, his sister attentively adjusting the tie she’d just knotted for him, staring dispassionately at his own reflection that seemed to fog in the worn mirror that was impossibly stained with tarnish from the ages. In the dim lighting, one could almost mistake his countenance for a skull, trauma-shocked hair for one who’d died long ago—and, perhaps it was true. Oddly mismatched eyes were the only indicator of the prosthetic he wore beneath the sleeve of his suit, an abomination that had been the cause of their house’s bone-bare fortunes. His military earnings were small stipends spent heavily on Lunafreya’s well-being and the upkeep of Fenestala that had fallen on hard times since Niflheim’s conquest.

“I don’t like this arrangement, Ravus. We barely know this man you’re to be wed to. Nothing of his house, beyond his role as Chancellor—“ Lunafreya was stopped short when he shook his head, a protest still alive in those ashen blue eyes but faltered.

“This world needs you alive as Oracle, Lunafreya. You do not know this man. I… I can handle him. You need not worry for me.” She knows the reluctance in his words too well. Ardyn Izunia was dangerous, and though he’d actively proposed this marriage, it was Ravus who prevented Luna from being selected. Tenebraen princes were of less concern to a matriarchy as this, as similar-gendered marriages rarely caused scandal. In Tenebrae, this meant freedom. In this instance, he was protecting the only family he had left.

“Ravus, should you wish to back out, no one would think ill of you,” Luna placated, placing petite hands on his bicep and forearm, a wan smile ghosting on her pale features. Even if she hid it, how frail she looked, how ghostly. This long winter and the shortage of food rations addled by a charitable spirit was ruining her health.

That drove a stake of guilt in his heart. When Ardyn was near, the very foulness he exuded tainted her. This was exactly why he had to protect her from even a man who meant her ill.

“Were it only so simple...” He was stronger than Luna, if in body predominantly. He knew Luna, but she didn’t know Ardyn the way he did. This would easily finance the manor and afford them some protection, even if by but a little, and keep them afloat through privilege. Even if this emotional strain would be contentious.

There was a knock at the door, Maria announcing that their train to Gralea had arrived. Now, there was no turning back.

For the past eight years, he’d been seeing this changeless man in his dreams. Clad in black, with boyishly spiky black hair and warm ruby eyes that looked almost brown, and a face youthful and serene. These were the lucid dreams Ravus remembered, spending summery vales in sylleblossom fields with this young man and speaking for long hours. It was a strange form for the conscience to take, but doing this somehow resolved many a problem before. In a childhood before the bombs dropped.

The man sat in a tree, leg dangling over the fat, gnarled branch he perched upon while Ravus sat by the grassy embankments of the river, near a trickling run-off that fed into crystal-cool waters. Willow fronds caressed the waters, and the silence was companionable. It always was when he first came, after all. Fragrant summer airs breezed past them, the soothing chorus of fluttering leaves billowing through the willow like hair. Newly emerged from the spring.

“You’re...getting married?”

Ravus could hear Noctis shift in surprise, seemingly shocked from his repose. The Tenebraen’s eyebrows only furrowed severely, as if his expression weren’t grim enough.

“And this surprises you?” he demanded bluntly of this dream-bound man, eyes immobile from the subtle intricacies of currents in the stream. Arm propped on a raised leg, one might think Ravus a statue.

Hearing him hop from his place and leap to the ground, it was only then that Ravus inclined his head towards the other. Noctis stood several feet behind him, expression discernibly unreadable.

“No, not really. Do you want this to happen?” Ravus moved aside some, silent invitation for Noctis to sit next to him. He did, but not within terribly close proximity. This is how it always was, after all.

“It is my duty. I do not live in a world where I am free to give my heart to whomever I wish,” Ravus explained, though he fell silent for a long while.

“Eight years, it’s been,” he murmured meditatively, flexing at the scarred tissue of his ruined hand. In his dreams, he wore no encasing, no prosthetic. The former prince always wondered as to why. Why this damned thing came with him, here. His eyes shifted to Noctis. If he changed, why hadn’t this man? “Who are you, really? Are you a fabrication of my dreams as I’ve led to believe all these years?” These circumstances made him doubt everything anymore.

Noctis’ countenance turned away from the Commander, set afar on the river. “No, I’m not. I was there—when your mother died. I was the one who collected her soul.” His head bowed, a long silence spanning them.

Reaper. Ravus’ eyes widened in shock, taken aback. In the pregnant pause, his gaze became like a glare as it searched Noctis hotly for answers. “How— Why are you here, then?”

The reaper smiled mirthlessly, a wan, barely-shadow of a smile ghosting on his features. “Dreams and death are a lot more interconnected than people think. Your soul—it goes places. One’s just more permanent than the other.” Noctis knew. That wasn’t the answer Ravus sought. “I...saw something, in you. That day, just as she died. ‘m...not even sure myself. I waited, sure, but things just happened. And here we are.”

As abstract an explanation as that was, it seemed strange. Guilt, perhaps. Not an uncommon thing to take pity on the victim. Eight years had lessened the shock, the scandalized look. With his impending wedding everything else seemed so minuscule.

Marrying for love was unheard of, even in this day and age. When one was royalty, marriage was to gain peace or curry favor. Yet as he gazed upon Noctis, something stirred within Ravus. Something he hadn’t truly entertained before wiped away the fog of the past, sharpening the picture. Noctis wasn’t a dream, anymore. Someone who knew him, who hadn’t used everything he confessed against him. Eight years and changeless, it was foolish—

Ravus caught himself before such irrational thoughts ran away from him, turning his face away. This wedding was driving him mad, making him seek ridiculous things. So soon? Was he truly so weak?

“You’re doing this for your sister, aren’t you?” Ravus was broken from his rapture when Noctis spoke, fixing him with a bemused look. “You’re strong, Ravus. Stronger than you know. You’ve made it to deputy High Commander, haven’t you? He’s a man of politics. Doubt he’ll be able to do much even if he tried.”

There was a confident smile on Noctis’ face. One that made Ravus realize the depths of a terrible, deep loneliness. He frowned, but it was hardly any different than the aloof grimness Noctis was thoroughly used to. Turning away, for once, he didn’t feel the same sort of resolution that had come from their talks in the past. Like more tangles had been introduced than soothed.

“We shall see, Noctis.”

Oh, but how hollow he felt.

Ravus awoke with a stiffness permeating his body and a dull ache in his chest. Rolling his head to gaze outside the window, an endless, white-capped sea of snow and blizzards greeted his vision and suddenly the numbness at his temple had a culprit. Shifting in his seat, the Tenebraen frowned at his own stiffness, not used to sleeping in such constrained positions for as long as he had.

It was strange for Lunafreya to not have accompanied him, but he knew her duties as Oracle took precedence. As it were, the Lucian-born Nyx Ulric had been her bodyguard for the better part of two years now, and Ravus trusted him enough to not blunder like an idiot he otherwise presented himself as.

His thoughts drifted again to the boy, the reaper. What he thought had been a subconscious depository was an extant being, and the idea of being wed to malicious Izunia suddenly stood in strange contest to this. And he knew why. Ravus knew himself too well not to; lest someone exploit a weakness he wasn’t aware of.

How would this one be, exactly? When he’d been younger, some several months into their frequent talks, he remembered becoming enamored with Noctis. Nothing like a true love, for he knew better. Having someone, real or not, burden his problems without using them as a dagger against him had been a sorely wanted luxury in an empire that would’ve otherwise stabbed him in the back; a profusely lonely existence that latched on to any friendly company and clung to it. He’d learnt that long before this.

After awhile, he convinced himself of the foolishness of such a fairy tale. That Noctis wasn’t real. Nothing had ever come of those encounters but talking. Sometimes near, sometimes far apart. Always talking about the most intimate of things. And he’d grown as a consequence.

But all this dredged those old, vulnerable sentiments he’d thought been buried deep. At the time when he couldn’t afford to be weak. Not when Lunafreya needed him as a vanguard between herself and that bastard chancellor now more than ever.

No...there was no time to ruminate on past foolishness. As the jagged skyline of Gralea arose from the wintery sea like teeth, he grit his jaw resolutely. Only a few more trials and he might be rid of this insipid conundrum. The Chancellor would be amused before and after the wedding, then lose interest and allow some normalcy to return. Endowments taken, parties to attend and declare, and it’d be over. For a war-hardened commander, he’d endured far worse than this.

A feminine voice announced their arrival time, Ravus folding his hands on his lap as he waited. He devoted his thoughts to Lunafreya, idly hoping all was well with his sister.

The Castle of Colbrine had been the ancestral home of the Aldercapts since time immemorial. A magnificent Gothic structure that spoke of an old and bygone elegance, baroque interiors all colored in the white, crimson, and black standards typical of their dynasty. Since having disembarked at the station, it was in a gaudy Rolls Royce that the Tenebraen was ushered to the palace, partly annoyed at the unnecessary extravagance that felt like either patronizing or condescending and Ravus couldn’t decide on which.

He was a damned officer in the army, already. No need for the needless pomp and parade.

Arriving, he was properly searched before entry, a stinging reminder that they still bore little trust in him as an outsider, regardless of the ovations he’d received for over a decade of service. Rising through the ranks simply so he’d better protect his sister and his homeland.

A member of the royal retinue, Iedolas’ own chamberlain, led him to the immaculate Hall of Conferences. Like stepping into a page from the Altissian Renaissance, even he had to admit the heavily gilt mosaics and domed ceilings and impossibly intricate moldings were exquisite to behold, like a cathedral. Even the glass tinted the cold sunlight outside a summery cream, easing his nerves somewhat. Such sunlight always reminded him of Luna.

His hackles raised the moment Ardyn’s swarmy person entered the room, standing to attention as a bevy of guards followed suit of the man, holding the doors open wordlessly. Humming beneath his breath, a deceptive levity in that maroon frame of hair, Ravus resisted every urge to curl his lips back in a snarl at the man.

“Chancellor Izunia,” Ravus greeted as he stood to attention, inclining his head just so even as his expression remained stonily impassive. It had to, lest the man worm for fissures and snare on to them and make a noose of it.

“Isn’t this all just so exciting, Lord Ravus? Weddings are always such touching events. I never thought I’d live to see my own in this lifetime,” Ardyn rambled with a dramatically enunciated tone as he swanned about the room, admiring the various vases set on tables commemorating things Ravus was too aloof to care for. But, this was all simply a distraction. Mismatched eyes saw the doors close behind him, the airy pretense seeming to dissolve the moment they did as his raised shoulders suddenly sagged and the summery glow of the sun seemed to chill and dim. “Has Lady Lunafreya been well lately, Ravus?”

Ravus bristled, but gave no visible indication of it. “Yes, she is. May we get to the business at hand, Chancellor?” The subject he simply wanted to get over with.

Over his shoulder, molten golden eyes concealed by waves of Merlot, Ardyn flashed a wolfish smile. “Oh, Ravus, you never were a romantic, were you?” he chided with a dark laugh.

“I simply wish to know if this affair will interfere with my duties significantly or not.”

“You would be permitted leave, naturally.” Ardyn sat himself at the head of the table with a flourish, the silent command for Ravus to do the same jabbing the Commander. Ravus did so at the very opposite end, a silent defiance to him ever being Ardyn’s subordinate in this circus. Ardyn produced a shief of papers from his lapel pocket, concentrating on them first before ever giving a glance to the former prince.

“Ah yes, what I’m certain you’re anxious to hear: there will be a significant dowry endowed, however, we’ve decided it best that Tenebrae be ruled by a governor, but as Chancellor, I unfortunately will not have this title and His Radiance believes you ought have it, dear boy. All decisions will run through me, naturally, and I will have direct oversight to all of Tenebrae’s affairs. We’ll both retain our respective positions with little change in the world. Isn’t that splendid, Ravus?” the Chancellor purred smugly, raising his brows at the younger man.

Ravus found himself surprisingly taken aback, warning himself not to be lulled by it. Governor? He had to admit, the title did sound a bit strange for him to have, but...he’d be in charge of his home. He’d have greater access to be around Lunafreya, and not worry so much about going behind people’s backs to attend to her. His head bowed, even if it sounded too good to be true. “That’s...very generous, Chancellor. Might I ask of our personal lives, then?” This elicited a grin from the man.

“We’ll have a room at Fenestala, of course. None of the other rooms, but one we both might like. Unfortunately, our duties will keep us apart, but public appearances abound. We’ll make quite a smart couple. Come now, you didn’t think this would entail selling your soul to the devil, now would it~?” The curl in his voice made Ravus cringe internally, but he withheld expressions so frank.

It would still be a loveless marriage, then. It was a grateful thing his hope for true love died in him a long time ago. This was practical. This was one based in reality. “No, Chancellor. I merely worried it would hamper my obligations to the army. I would not wish for the sword of office His Radiance gifted to me to be besmirched.”

“Should we acclimate to a life of wedded bliss, I believe you should familiarize yourself with calling me by simply my name. Try it.” Ardyn waved a wrist encouragingly at him, as if prompting a hound to roll over for him.

“Ardyn,” Ravus repeated flatly, utterly deadpanned.

The man addressed brightened sarcastically, pointing to himself in shock. “Who, me?” He laughed merrily and rose from his seat, Ravus taking this as invitation to do the same and began stalking from the room in hopes of recouping from this ordeal, to mull over the elevation in office he’d be receiving shortly.

However, before he could, he exhaled sharply when he found the equally tall man too close and corralling him against a wall, backing into it until the fanciful moldings dug uncomfortably into his spine. Fixated on those eyes of liquid gold, Ardyn leaned in close and pressed his lips to Ravus’, though there was nothing tender about it. Ravus’ lips remained lifeless through it, eyes open and watching, despite the heat he felt stirring in his solar plexus. Ardyn’s hands took him by his flared hips, pressing their pelvises scandalously close together.

Not realizing his breath was hitched, Ravus exhaled when Ardyn moved away, the man smiling his Cheshire’s smile.

“Tomorrow, then. Do take care of yourself until then, dearest Ravus.”